


Miracle

by porcelaincomic



Series: Salvation [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Not Beta Read, also no relationship stuff until WAY LATER, aside from that i try to stick as close to canon as i can get, i changed like one thing from canon but i guess it's a big thing so, i'm pretty sure all chapter titles will be songs because i'm original as heck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 98,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6746044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelaincomic/pseuds/porcelaincomic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miracle [ˈmirək(ə)l] NOUN.  A surprising event not explicable by natural or scientific law, and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.</p><p>Nothing good can come of this.</p><p>Season 5; Female OC.<br/>Each episode is divided by chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Moon Rising

**ILCHESTER, MARYLAND — NOV. 12, 2009**

“I can’t believe it…” Ruby breathed. She stared down at the body of the first demon—Lilith—in shock. Lilith’s eyes were open, but lifeless, and blood dripped out of her mouth onto the floor. “You did it.”

Sam looked confused. “What—What did I do?”

“You opened the door.” His eyes widened as a smile stretched across Ruby’s face. “And now, he’s free. He’s free at last!”

“No… No, no, no—Lilith—I stopped her!” Sam pointed down at the body. “I killed her!”

Ruby watched him, eyes and voice intense. “ _’And it is written that the first demon shall be the last seal.’_ And you just bust her open.” Sam exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. He moved past Ruby as she chuckled. “Now guess who’s coming to dinner.”

He looked down at Lilith, then to the blood that began to form a strange, circular sigil on the ground. “Oh, my God.”

“Guess again.”

 

Dean burst through the door with a loud grunt, a large candelabra in his hands. He tossed it away from him. Ruby and Sam looked up as he headed for them, his boots thumping hard and fast. He brought out the demon-killing knife.

Ruby let go of Sam. She stood tall, smirk still on her face. “You’re too late—“

“I don’t care.” Dean said, voice and expression hard. In a matter of seconds, Sam had gotten back on his feet and grabbed Ruby’s arms, holding her in place. Dean stopped in front of her and thrust the knife deep into her stomach. She groaned in pain between the two hunters, jerking when Dean twisted the knife. He ripped it out, and Sam let her drop to the floor—dead. The brothers looked at each other, panting gently.

It was Sam who broke the silence. “I’m sorry…” Dean didn’t say a word. They jumped as a bright pillar of light suddenly erupted up beside them. The sigil created by Lilith’s blood had been completed, and the convent shook around them. The two watched as the light grew. Sam’s hand reached up to clutch at Dean’s jacket. Dean did the same.

“Sammy, let’s go.” He insisted, but his feet refused to move. He looked over at Sam, who couldn’t tear his eyes from the light.

“He’s coming.” Sam breathed. His hand tightened around his brother’s leather jacket. Dean looked back to the light, swallowing thickly as it grew brighter.

He forced himself to turn away and run for the doors, shouting back, “Come on!” Sam followed, but they stopped when the doors slammed shut. They pulled and pounded, but the solid wood wouldn’t budge. The light was strong, cracking through door and forcing its way out. A high-pitched whine filled their ears, and the two looked back. The light continued to pour from the sigil, and the sound became louder—so loud, it started to hurt. They pressed their hands against their ears, trying to block out the noise, and Dean held up a hand to shield his eyes. Sam squeezed his eyes shut as the light enveloped them completely.

 

Then it was gone. Animated voices filled their ears instead of the unbearable sound, and Sam and Dean opened their eyes. A cartoon played on a screen in front of them, and they looked around. They were on an airplane. Dean lowered his hands. “What the hell?”

Sam stared at the people on the plane, bewildered, as he whispered, “I don’t know…”

“All right, folks, just a quick word from the flight deck.” The pilot’s voice announced over the airplane speaker. “We’re just passing over Ilchester, then Ellicott City, on our initial descent into Baltimore—“

“Ilchester, weren’t we just there?” Dean questioned, throwing Sam a glance. He shrugged.

“—So, if you’d like to stretch your legs, now would be a good time to—!” A column of pure, white light burst from somewhere below the plane. “Holy crap!” The shockwave from the light knocked the plane off kilter. Passengers screamed—some were thrown from their seats—as the airplane fought to keep steady. Oxygen masks dropped down, and Sam and Dean quickly put theirs on. Dean looked out the window, terrified, as the light continued to shine and the high-pitched noise returned.

 

**SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH — NOV. 12, 2009**

Jaime’s hand clutched at her head as she hissed in pain. The sudden ringing in her ears threw her off balance, and she stopped walking and leaned against the side of the building for support. _What's that sound?_ She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned through her teeth. She cracked open an eye and looked around, searching for what could have caused such sharp noise. She didn’t see anything and frowned, staring at the setting sun. The ringing faded, and she used the wall to help her stand. _What the hell was that?_

“Jaime?” She turned. Her friend’s voice was muffled a bit, and she blamed it on the ringing. Long, brown hair framed her face as she looked at Jaime with a raised brow. “You okay? You almost fell over…”

“Yeah! Yeah, Shannon, I’m fine!” Jaime waved her hand dismissively. “I just got this—this earache that’s been buggin’ me lately.” She massaged her ear with the palm of her hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

Shannon watched her friend for a moment, then sighed. “Okay. Well, we’re already a few minutes late to class, so c’mon.” Jaime caught up with her. “You should get that checked out.” She said, gesturing to her ear. “Hope it doesn’t become a big problem.”

Jaime nodded. “Yeah.” She tugged her jacket closer as a gust of wind blew past.

 

**BALTIMORE, MARYLAND — NOV. 18, 2009**

“God?”

“Yes.”

“God.”

“Yes.” Castiel repeated. “He isn’t in Heaven, He has to be somewhere else.”

“Try New Mexico.” Dean smirked. “I hear He’s on a tortilla.”

Castiel thought for a moment. “No, He isn’t on any flatbread.”

Dean sighed as his joke went over the angel’s head. “Listen, Chuckles, even if there _is_ a God, He’s either dead—and that’s the generous theory—“

“—He's out there, Dean—“

“—Or He’s up and kicking and doesn’t give a rat’s ass about any of us.” Castiel glared. “I mean, look around. We are _literally_ at the end of the days here,” He moved past the angel as he continued, “and He’s off somewhere, drinking booze out of a coconut. All ri—“

“Enough.” Castiel’s voice was firm. “This is not a theological issue; it’s strategic. With God’s help, we can win.”

“It’s a pipe dream, Cas.”

Castiel took a breath, growing irritated with the hunter’s doubt. “I killed two angels this week, my _brothers._ ” He said, advancing on Dean. “I’m hunted, I rebelled, and I did it—all of it—for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world, and I lost everything, for nothing.” His voice was a harsh whisper as he spoke. Sam looked down, guilty. “So keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Well, you didn’t drop in just to tear us a new one.” Bobby’s voice broke the tension. “What do you want?”

Castiel watched Dean for a moment longer before he turned to Bobby. “An amulet.”

“An amulet?” Bobby repeated. “What kind?”

“A very rare, very powerful one. It burns hot in God’s presence; it’ll help me find Him.”

“A God EMF?” Sam asked. Castiel nodded.

“Well, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I got nothin’ like that.”

“I know you don’t.” Castiel said, turning away from Bobby. He faced Dean again, and his eyes dropped down to the necklace around his neck—specifically, to the charm dangling from the chord. His eyes snapped back up to Dean. “May I borrow it?”

“No.”

“Dean. Give it to me.”

Dean opened his mouth, as if to reject Castiel again, but stopped. His fingers toyed with the amulet, and he looked down at it before he pulled the chord over his head. “All right, I guess.” He held the necklace out, but pulled it away as the angel reached for it. “Don’t... Don’t lose it.” Castiel watched him as the necklace was placed in his hand. He stared down at it as Dean muttered, “Now I feel naked.”

The angel didn’t look up. “I’ll be in touch.” When Dean turned to look at Sam, a soft _whoosh_ was heard as Castiel disappeared.

“When you find God, tell Him to send some legs!” Bobby shouted.

 

**SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH — NOV. 30, 2009**

Jaime tapped a pen against her desk. One of her legs bounced up and down restlessly. She chewed on her fingernails. A few of the other students in the class gave her dirty looks. Everyone was in the middle of taking their final, and the noises she was making irritated the whole classroom, no doubt. Hazel-green eyes—blown open and wide—stared blankly at the test paper in front of her. There was almost nothing written on it. The hand not holding the pen dropped to her side. Her body was warm. Her short, red hair was dampened with sweat. She swallowed.

Her ears ached. That damn ringing was all she could hear. It was dull, but constant, and irritating as all hell. It had been going on for almost two weeks. She had gone to the doctors during Thanksgiving break, but they couldn’t find anything wrong. She said that was ridiculous, because she had been hearing the whine during the whole examination. They still said they couldn’t find anything. The doctor told her to go to an ear cleaners, and she took the number for their recommended office and left. The ear cleaners hadn’t worked, either. She had lied and told the man there that the ringing had stopped. She groaned in pain the moment she left the office.

“Bryce!”

Her head snapped up. The professor frowned at her. “Yeah?”

“That's the third time I've called you.” He said, then waved his hand at her pen. “That tapping is a distraction to—not only your classmates, I’m sure—but to me, as well. Stop it.” She did. “Thank-you.” He looked back down to the papers on his desk.

A few of her classmates’ eyes lingered on her for a moment before they looked away. Jaime glanced at the clock at the front of the room. _5:12 p.m._ She looked down at her test, and her brows furrowed in confusion. _I’ve barely written anything down, what the hell? I thought…_ She chewed her lip as the pitch of the noise grew higher—only for a moment—before it lowered back to the dull tone. _God, I’m never gonna finish this in time._ She clenched her hands. She felt the ink splatter as the pen cracked and broke.

 

**WATERVILLE, MAINE — DEC. 7, 2009**

“Didn’t you hear, Castiel?” Raphael’s voice was deep as he spoke. “God is dead.” Dean and Castiel exchanged glances. The holy fire that surrounded the archangel illuminated the abandoned house they were in. Thunder crashed outside, and rain beat against the windows. “He’s gone.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Do you remember the twentieth century?” Castiel looked down as Raphael continued. “Think the twenty-first is going any better? Do you think He would have let any of this happen if He were still alive?”

Dean looked over at Castiel. The angel didn’t say a word. He turned back to Raphael. “Oh, yeah? Then, who invented the Chinese basket trick?” He joked.

The archangel’s hard gaze met his. “Careful, boy. That’s my Father you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, who’d be _so proud_ to know His sons started the friggin’ apocalypse.” Dean walked over to a nearby window. The trees outside bent against the rough wind, and the lightning was blinding each time it flashed.

“Who ran off and disappeared. Who left no instructions, and an entire world to run.”

“Daddy ran away and disappeared?” After a beat, he added, “He didn’t happen to work for the post office, did He?” Castiel threw him a look.

“This is funny to you?” Raphael seemed a bit shocked. “You’re living in a godless universe.”

“And?” Dean shrugged. “You and the other kids decided to throw an apocalypse party while He was gone?”

The archangel went silent for a moment. “We’re tired. We just want it to be over, just want… We just want paradise.”

“So, what, God dies and makes you the boss, and you decide you can do whatever the hell you want?”

“Yes. And whatever we want,” Raphael’s voice seemed to boom as he glared at Dean, “we get.” The thunder outside roared even louder, and the window behind Dean and Castiel suddenly shattered. They turned away to shield themselves from the flying shards of glass.

 

**WEST VALLEY CITY, UTAH — DEC. 11, 2009**

Jaime shivered underneath the blankets. She pulled them up to her chin, then pushed them down to her stomach, only to yank them back up to her chest. She felt both hot and cold. Her body was coated in a visible sheen of sweat, but she wasn’t sick—she felt like it, but she wasn’t. She had taken her temperature five times in the past three hours. The thermometer read normal every time. She shivered again.

There was a knock on the door, and Shannon walked in. She looked at her friend, then sighed. “I found some pills in the medicine cabinet.” She said, holding up a small, white bottle.

Jaime nodded. She watched Shannon cross the room and set the bottle on the nightstand beside the bed. The semester had ended, and Jaime had failed two of her four finals. She had gotten worse. The ringing was still constant and had gotten louder, and she started having throbbing headaches almost all the time now. She had asked her dorm mate and friend if she could stay with her and her family for the winter break, and Shannon had made room in the guest bedroom for her.

She had asked Jaime why she didn’t want to stay with her own family. Jaime told her she wasn’t very close with them, and that she preferred to be with friends instead. She hadn’t spent much time with Shannon, though. When she arrived at the house, she wasn’t feeling up to leaving at all. Then, a few days ago, she started feeling too weak to even leave the guest room.

“Jaime?” She lifted her head. Shannon stared at her, sitting in the chair at the desk in the room. “Did you hear me?” She shook her head, and Shannon sighed. “I asked what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged under the covers. Her voice was a bit loud, but if she talked too soft she wouldn’t be able to hear it over the ringing. “I’ve just come down with something.”

“That’s crap.” Jaime turned away as Shannon stepped forward. “You’re not running a fever, but you look like hell. I’d heard that you’d been acting really weird during finals—that you went to the doctors, and an ear cleaners? What’s that about?” When she didn’t answer, Shannon crossed her arms. “Something’s going on with you.”

“No, it’s fine, Shannon.” She insisted. “I just… Everything’s gonna be fine, all right? I’ll get over this cold—or whatever it is—and then I’ll be back to normal, okay?” She pulled the blankets over her head. Being completely covered like that made her feel even worse—too much heat—but she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

Shannon sighed, then said, “Christmas is coming up.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to spend it here?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Jaime heard her stand and shut the guest room door. She pulled the covers away from her face and turned over to look out the window. It was snowing outside. She suddenly sat up, clutching at the front of her shirt and gasping for air. Her brows were tight, and her eyes were wide. She felt uneasy, suffocated. She felt something surrounding her. She threw the blankets off her body, looking around the room in mild panic. The feeling didn’t go away.

 

**KANSAS CITY, MISOURRI — AUG., 2014**

He had seen her before—not once, but twice.

The first time was when he made it to Bobby’s. The place had been torn apart, and Dean didn’t know what to do. He found a photo with six people standing in front of a sign that read _‘Camp Chitaqua.’_ Three men he didn’t know, Bobby, Castiel, and her. She stood behind Bobby and next to Castiel. He didn’t think much of it then.

The second time was when he asked Chuck where Castiel’s cabin was. He walked in to see him sitting in a circle with other women. She was leaning against a wall, and her mouth fell open when she saw him—hazel-green eyes wide. Castiel excused the girls when he finally noticed Dean. She moved to leave after them, but Castiel grabbed her hand. She looked down at him before pulling away. She did her best to not touch Dean when she passed him. He gave her a strange look, but shook his head and forgot about it.

She didn’t talk much and said even less to him.

The first time he heard her speak was when he—his 2014-self, that is—told Risa and Castiel his plan to kill the devil. His future-self told everyone to leave the room so he could talk to his past-self alone. Risa and Castiel left, but she didn’t move. She just stared at him. _“Something you wanna say to me?”_ Dean said. She didn’t answer him as she turned to leave. He grabbed her arm—his 2014-self, that is—and she looked up at him and said, _“I forgot you used to be like that,”_ before she jerked away and left the two alone.

The second time he heard her speak, he didn’t understand. She was driving him and Castiel to Lucifer’s location. To Sam’s location. Dean asked Castiel about his new lifestyle, and he laughed. _“He’s not an angel anymore, Dean.”_ She told him. _“His mojo’s all gone.”_ Dean asked her how that was possible, and Castiel answered for her. He looked at her as Castiel spoke. He didn’t notice the ex-angel reach for her hand, or how she moved it away before he could grab it.

She had avoided him as best she could, moving in a way so as not to touch him when he was close.

The first and only time they had touched each other was outside the sanitarium where Lucifer was. Where Sam was. The small, armed group of people walked towards cover. Dean stopped when he felt a hand hold his arm. No one noticed. _“I’m leaving.”_ She said. Her eyes bore into his, and he saw the dying brightness in them. She let him go and turned around, but his hand moved out to grab her arm. She looked back at him. He didn’t know why he stopped her. _“Okay.”_ He swallowed, letting her go. She ran. He watched her disappear into an alley, red hair trailing behind her. No one noticed.

 

**WEST VALLEY CITY, UTAH — DEC. 29, 2009**

“Jaime?”

No answer. Her eyes moved everywhere as she stood in Shannon’s backyard.

“Jaime, talk to me.” The brunette said, pulling her coat tighter. She looked around, boots shifting on the snow-covered ground. She looked back at her friend. “Have you been standing out here all night?”

No answer. Her shoulders moved with each panicked breath she took.

“Jaime!”

She whipped her head around. “What?” She snapped. Her jaw was tight. Her hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. “What do you want, Shannon?”

“I want you to tell me what’s going on!” She raised her voice. “You’re getting worse, not better! You stay in the guest room all the time, you don’t come out to eat anymore—you didn’t even come out on Christmas! I asked if were okay, but you didn’t answer! And now, you’re doing this—this _thing_ where you stand outside at night, for hours! It’s four in the morning, Jaime! You’re scaring my parents, and you’re starting to freak me out, too!” Shannon took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “You said you’d get over whatever’s happening to you, but that was almost three weeks ago. You still look like crap, and now you’re acting crazy—Jaime, what’s happening?”

Jaime looked down at her bare feet. If she could feel them, she assumed they’d be freezing—maybe even nearing frostbite. Her hands clenched into fists. If she could feel them, she would feel her nails digging into her skin. “I don’t—“ She stopped, turning to face Shannon. “I… It feels like… There’s something around me, Shannon. Something’s watching me.”

“You mean, someone?”

“No. No, _something._ ” She repeated. “It’s… It’s suffocating, overwhelming, a—and I can’t stand it, but… At the same time, I—I feel at peace, as if I’ve got nothing to worry about.” A chuckle escaped her as she ran her hands down her face. “It—This is so weird, I can’t—I can’t think about anything else except what’s happening.” She looked up at her friend, and frowned when she saw the perplexed expression on her face.

Shannon took a few steps back. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Jaime, but maybe you should talk to someone about this.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“No, to a professional, Jaime. This isn’t… Whatever this is, it isn’t normal.” Shannon opened the sliding door that led back into her house. “Please, just... Just get some help.” She disappeared inside.

The sound of the door closing was lost on Jaime as she clutched her head between her hands. The ringing pierced her ears, and a pain pounded against her head. She collapsed to her knees, groaning through clenched teeth.

 

Jaime had taken Shannon’s advice. Four days after the New Year, she scheduled a meeting with a psychologist. She told him the truth about what was happening to her. The ringing that never went away, the headaches that only seemed to get worse with time, the feeling that something had been watching her for a little over a week now. She told him how she felt sick, but her temperature showed that she should have felt fine.

The psychologist asked if she had been stressed lately. She joked and said that she was a university student, and that every day was stressful for her. He said that stress may be causing her small case of paranoia. He wrote her a prescription for an anti-stress medication. She purchased the medicine, and took it when she got back to Shannon’s house. It made her sleepy. When she woke up, it was almost eight. Shannon had left her a plate of that night’s dinner in the fridge.

As much as she doubted the psychologist’s decision, the medicine seemed to be working. The ringing was no longer a problem. The headaches faded away completely. The unnerving feeling of something watching her disappeared, as well. She had only been taking the medicine for three days. She wasn’t sure if it normally worked that fast, but she didn’t question it. She was glad everything was going away. She was glad she was going back to normal.

 

**JAN. 11, 2010**

It was two in the morning when Jaime’s eyes snapped open, and she threw the covers off her body and ran to the guest room window. She pressed her palms against the glass, eyes looking all around Shannon’s backyard. She pushed away from the window and grabbed a coat, running out of the guest room. She struggled to put it on as she opened the front door, but it didn’t do much against the 25° weather outside. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her pajamas, either—a University of Applied Tech t-shirt, and a pair of cotton shorts that stopped mid-thigh.

Her breath came out in heavy puffs as she walked barefoot on the concrete road. It hadn’t snowed that night. She looked around the street. The lights were off in Shannon’s parent’s house, and the other houses on the street were dark, as well. A gust of wind blew past. Jaime rubbed her hands up and down her arms, hoping the friction would cause the goose bumps to go away. A bead of sweat dripped down her neck.

“Leave me alone. Whatever you are, just leave me alone.” She said through chattering teeth. No one—nothing—answered her. “I know you’re here, know you’re watching me. I can feel you.” Her eyes darted left, then right. “You’re suffocating me, you know. But at the same time, you’re… It’s like you’re setting me free. Like everything I’ve ever worried about is slipping away.”

A shiver racked her body as the wind picked up, and se pulled her grey-green coat closer. “But I don’t like it. I don’t like feeling like this.” She looked up. “I’m taking medicine to make it go away, and it’s working. Even if you don’t want to, you’ll have to stop. That’s all I want, so please, just… Leave me alone.” She stood outside for another moment, then turned and walked back towards the house. That’s when it hit her. _Literally._

An unbelievably powerful force slammed into Jaime’s back—not against, but into her back. She fell forward, scraping up her hands and knees. She let out a sharp cry as she felt it shifting around inside her. Her body felt warm. Light radiated from behind her eyes, and she looked down to see her body glowing with the same intense brightness. It was coming from inside of her. The ringing blared deafeningly inside her ears. She pressed her forehead against the pavement, gripping the sides of her head. Everything felt excruciating.

A million different images rushed through her head—things she’s never seen, things she never thought existed. Pained gasps forced their way out of her throat, echoing in the night. She heard a voice that boomed with authority, but was peaceful like the wind. It called out to her. She was in too much pain to answer.

Then everything stopped. The images disappeared, and her mind went blank. The pain vanished, and the light that shone from her body faded. She was pulled upright, still on her knees, and her head fell back as she was forced to look up at the dark sky. Her arms hung at her sides, and her eyes were wide. She remained still for a moment, before she suddenly fell forward, curling in on herself. Her arms wrapped around her torso, mouth open to scream but nothing coming out. She gasped out loud before her body went limp and she collapsed.

Jaime lied still on the ground, and minutes passed before she finally sat up. She lifted herself onto her feet and stood straight. Her eyes were lidded, and her mouth was set in a thin line. She looked left, then right, searching for something. She stopped and stared distantly—somewhere southeast—then started to walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this sure is...something. first fic posted and it's supernatural, of course it is why would i post anything else!!  
> anyways!!! thanks you for checking out chapter 1 of Salvation!! i've had this one sitting in my head ever since i started watching the show...two years ago?? but i never got around to actually working on it until recently. i'm actually really proud of how it's turning out so far ;;; v ;;;;  
> i don't really had an update schedule?? as of now, i've got five chapters (including this one) ready to be posted, but i try to start and finish a new chapter before i post the next one, just to make sure i'm ready to go and all. i'm just getting used to ao3 and it's style of posting things so bear with me;;;  
> as for the main character!!! her name is jaime (pronounced JAY-ME) and she is special to me (my sweet sad child). you don't really see much of her personality here, just little tidbits and such, but that's what the next chapter is for!!!  
> i hope you enjoy my work and continue to read it!!  
> the song for this chapter is Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival, btw!!


	2. Disparate Youth

_Castiel._

The angel looked up. His hand clenched around Dean’s necklace—the amulet was cold. His eyes moved back and forth, searching. “…Father?” His voice was no louder than a whisper. “Is that you?”

_Castiel._

“Yes—Yes, I’m here!” He shouted up to the sky. “Where are you, tell me!” The voice didn’t respond. He searched the star-filled sky for a moment longer, then closed his eyes and sighed. He prayed what he heard hadn’t just been his imagination. “Please…”

_I’m here, Castiel._

He looked heavenward once again. “Where? Tell me where; I’ll come find you!”

_Vaughn, New Mexico._

Castiel frowned. _What are you doing in New Mexico?_ The angel didn’t dwell on the thought for too long.

 

**VAUGHN, NEW MEXICO — JAN. 18, 2010**

No more than a second passed before Castiel stood on a highway just outside of the small town. He didn't see anything around the area, so he headed for the town, making sure to keep his eyes open.

_Here, Castiel._

A figure stood under a streetlight a bit further up the road. Castiel was hopeful, but cautious. It was rumored that only the archangels had seen His face, and he could count the number of times on one hand. He had no idea what He would look like, no idea what He would be like. He could do whatever He wanted.

The silhouette of a young woman, illuminated under the dim yellow light, came into view, and Castiel became confused. The amulet was on fire and glowed brilliantly. He held it by the chord. He stopped in front of the woman, but she did nothing. He looked around the area. There was nothing else—no one else. He faced the woman. She wore a grey-green coat over a t-shirt and shorts, which did nothing against the chilly air. He noticed her feet were bare and dirty. Her hair was red and messy, and her eyes were hazel and vacant. She stared at the ground.

“God?”

She looked up at him.

 

**WOOSTER, OHIO — JAN. 18, 2010**

The past few months had been pretty rough for Sam and Dean, but what else was new. They had jumpstarted the apocalypse near the end of the year, defeated a Horseman in a cherry-red Mustang, met the smallest anti-Christ ever, and one of them even turned into an old man for a short period of time. They had next to nothing on a plan to take down the devil. Castiel was being as helpful as he could, but his search for God seemed to be top priority for him. Ever since he and Dean had spoken to Raphael, the angel had become more determined in his personal mission.

Before Zachariah sent him five years into the future, Dean talked to Castiel about getting the Colt back from a group of demons, but even then he didn’t know where to start. He and Sam had been buying time taking on various cases since they got back together—they’d have to until they could find a solid lead on the Colt.

A quick series of knocks on the door took the brothers by surprise. It was almost midnight, no one should be knocking. They glanced at each other, and Sam stood to his feet, picking up his gun. Dean did the same when more knocks sounded. Sam turned the handle and opened the door a crack—gun positioned at his hip—before he sighed. “It’s Cas.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he set his gun back on the bed. Sam moved away from the door, opening it for Castiel. “What’s up, Cas?” The angel didn’t come in. “Cas? Buddy, what’s up, you need an invitation or something now?” He looked up at the hunter, shoulders moving as he sighed and walked into the motel room. “What happened to just poppin’ in whenever you,” A woman walked in after him, “felt like it—Who is that?”

“A vessel.”

He sat down on the bed in front of the television, which only played infomercials at such a late hour. The woman walked past Sam and Dean and stood close to Castiel. She didn’t look at them. The two hunters exchanged baffled looks before Dean spoke up again. “Okay? You wanna elaborate some more?” He crossed the room and looked at the woman. “Is she another angel?”

“She’s not an angel.” Castiel sighed, standing. “She’s the vessel of God.”

“What?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No, Sam, I am not joking.” He turned to the younger Winchester. “We are in the midst of the apocalypse. The battle between Michael and Lucifer will destroy the planet and every person and every creature inhabiting it. That’s not what God wants. He came here to stop it.” He glanced over at the woman. “I thought He would be able to manifest Himself, but it turns out He’s like us angels; He needs a vessel to contain His true form here on Earth.”

Dean moved to stand in front of her. She didn’t look up at him. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he’d seen her before. “Wait a second,” He turned to Castiel, “Raphael said that God was dead.” The angel tensed at the memory. “That’s why all the angels are being such dicks—‘cause Daddy walked out one day and never came back, right?”

“God can’t die, Dean.” Castiel said. “I don’t… I don’t know what caused Raphael’s faith to falter, but I can assure you, He is not dead.”

“He’s…” Sam looked at the woman. She hadn’t moved since entering the room, and it made the atmosphere even more uneasy than it already was. “He’s in her?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes.”

Dean leaned down to get a good look at her face. Her hair looked dirty, her eyes were hazy. Her feet were grimy and looked scraped to hell. “So,” He started, “they don’t wear shoes where you’re from?”

She said nothing.

Dean exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I never really considered myself the class clown…” He turned to his brother. “Sam, you wanna give me a hand?”

“Oh, uh…” Sam cleared his throat as he and Dean switched places. He sat down on the bed next to the woman, looking her up and down. He thought for a moment about how long she had been wearing those clothes. It could have started raining any moment outside, and she was walking around in a pair of shorts. “What, uh… What’s your name?”

She said nothing.

Dean turned to Castiel. “So, what, God can’t talk?”

“No, of course He can; He spoke to me.” He explained. “It’s safe to assume if you were to hear His true voice or see His true form, it’d be like witnessing the true form of an angel—only the effects would be much more severe.”

Dean scoffed and crossed his arms. “So, He's just gonna stand there all night? Not talking or anything?” He picked up the gun from the bed and walked over to the fridge. “Kinda freaky, if you ask me.” He grabbed a beer, opened it, and sat down at the table in the kitchen area. He looked back to the woman and frowned when he saw her sway a little. “Cas, is she okay?”

Castiel pressed a hand to her back, steadying her as she tipped backwards some. Her face was still vacant. “She must have been walking for some time before I found her. She needs to rest.” He put a hand on her shoulder as he led her to one of the beds. Her legs shook a little, threatening to give out from exhaustion. She lifted the bedsheets and lied down, pulling them up to her shoulders and turning to face the wall. “She’ll need her strength.”

The sheets moved as she breathed softly, already asleep. Dean leaned over to Sam, whispering, “That was my bed.”

He shook his head. “Where did you find her—Him—God?” He wasn’t sure how to refer to the deity-containing vessel.

Castiel watched her for a moment longer. “I’d been searching for God ever since you gave me the amulet,” He glanced at Dean, “but found nothing for the longest time. I… I was starting to give up hope of ever finding Him. But then, He called out to me, and I went to Him.” He moved across the room and sat at the table with Dean. “When I found Him, He had already chosen a vessel. She was standing on the side of a highway outside of Vaughn, New Mexico.”

Dean let out a breath of laughter, mumbling something that sounded like _‘tortilla.’_ Castiel ignored it. “But, why?” Sam asked. “Why did God possess _her?_ ”

“I didn’t quite understand it at first, either. I was relieved to have finally found Him, but I was... _confused._ ” The angel admitted, looking at the sleeping woman. “Why take a human vessel? What makes this one so special? He can do, He can be, anything He wanted to—He could have manifested Himself so that a vessel was not necessary.” He turned back to Sam and Dean. “He spoke to me when I asked why her. He said she was capable, strong—she may not look it, but she is. She is what He needs in order to do what He came here for on Earth,” Then he added, “and taking a vessel is the better option, apparently.” Castiel then went quiet. “He didn’t tell me what His plan was, but He... He must be here to do something about the apocalypse. He’s not gonna let it happen like this, that’s not… This isn’t—This can’t be what He wants.”

“You think He’s gonna fight the angels? Fight the devil?” Dean asked.

“I believe so, but…” Castiel sighed. “The last time he did something like this, Augustus Caesar was leader, and people called him _‘Jesus of Nazareth.’_ ” Sam and Dean exchanged looks. “He spoke to me, yes, but not with His voice—He wasn’t speaking through the vessel. Who knows what He is and isn’t capable of like this.”

“So, who knows what’ll happen.” Sam said.

“Exactly.”

 

_Jaime._

_The pain of whatever it was inside her was unbearable, yet the warmth that coursed through her body was so soothing. She was confused, frightened. Light emanated from within, and her head pulsed as the whine filled her ears. Images flashed behind her eyes—things from thousands of years ago, things from a few weeks ago, things from both a near and far-off future. What was happening to her? Why was she seeing these things? Whose voice was that?_

_Jaime, please._

_The voice was powerful, yet so gentle. She didn’t say anything back. She couldn’t—everything ached so severely, she could hardly form a sentence. Who are you, she wanted to scream, What do you want from me._

_Please, let me in._

_She felt her body jerk, and she stared at the sky as the voice continued. Her mind was blank, the pain had stopped, the light had faded away. It didn’t make any sense. Nothing about this made any sense. Her body was released, and she curled in on herself. Her eyes were wide as the voice spoke to her, and she gasped out, “Yes.” White filled her vision, and her body fell limp to the concrete._

 

Hazel eyes snapped open, then shut with a soft groan. Jaime sighed, turning over on the unusually hard mattress. She stared up at the cracked, water-damaged ceiling, and her eyes narrowed in confusion. _I don’t know this ceiling._ She looked down to the deep-burgundy sheets draped over her. _I don’t know these blankets._ She lifted her gaze to look around the room she was in. _This isn’t Shannon’s guest room._ Two men she didn’t know—one in a tan overcoat at a table facing away from her, one in a grey t-shirt sleeping in an arm chair—were in the skeevy-looking motel room. She slowly turned onto her left side. Another man, shaggy hair framing his face, slept in the bed across from her. She looked at the nightstand between the two beds, and her face paled when she saw a gun. _…Oh, my God._

She screamed, startling all three men in the room. In a flurry of shaking movements, Jaime grabbed the gun off the nightstand, threw the covers away from her, and jumped out of the bed. The one in the coat pushed away from the chair and moved forward. He stopped when she shoved the gun in his direction. The other two stood and moved to stand beside each other. They raised their hands when she pointed the gun at them.

She looked between them, eyes threatening to fill up with tears. “Okay! I have no idea where I am, o—or who you people are,” Her voice was frantic, “so someone better start talking to me, _right now!_ ” The men looked at one another, as if trying to decide who would talk first. The one who had been sleeping in the other bed licked his lips and stepped forward. Jaime’s sweaty palms clenched around the grip of the pistol.

“Okay…” He spoke calmly, which frightened her even more. “We’ll talk, but let’s just…put the gun—!”

Jaime thrust the gun at him when he took another step forward. “I’m not an _idiot!_ ” She screamed. “I know what’ll happen if I put this thing down!” She moved it back and forth between them again. “I’m not letting my finger off the damn trigger until someone gives me some _freakin’ answers!_ ”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey!” The one in the grey shirt—who had been asleep in the chair—ducked a little when she moved the pistol over to him. “Watch where you’re swingin’ that thing!”

Jaime let out a loud, stressed chuckle. She hadn’t meant to laugh, but she was nearing hysterics. “Pretty sure the one with the _freakin’ gun_ gets to call the shots! Quit stalling, and tell me what’s going on!” She took a step forward—foolish bravado—and two of them took a step back. The man in the coat didn't move. “Where am I; who are you people!?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain—“

“ _Shut the hell up, and tell me!_ ”

The one in the grey shirt leaned over to the one with the shaggy hair, whispering, “Jeez, bossy.” The click of the hammer made him lift his hands higher. “All right, all right!” He sighed. “I’m Dean Winchester. This is my brother, Sam.” He jerked his head to the man he whispered to—Sam—then over to the one who had been sitting at the table. “That guy over there is Cas. We’re... We’re hunters.”

Her face contorted into a look of bewilderment, and she lowered the gun a little. “What? Like—Like, wild game and things like that?” Her eyes widened, and she raised the gun back to them. “Oh, God, you hunt _people,_ don’t you— _‘Most Dangerous Game’_ crap going on here, huh? Oh, Christ, you’re gonna let me go, then come and hunt me down, then kill me—!” She stopped, inhaling sharply and holding the gun even tighter. “ _Are you freakin’ cannibals!?_ ”

“Enough of this.”

The man in the coat—Cas—stepped towards her. She swung the gun at him. “D—Don’t! Take another step, and I’ll shoot!” He didn’t stop. Her hands shook, and she screamed as she fired.

“ _—Jesus!_ ” Dean grit out.

A shuddering gasp came from her when she saw Cas still standing. Blood splattered over the front of his white dress shirt, dripping from the point-blank bullet wound in his chest. The pistol fell from her hands as she stared, and he kicked it towards the other men. Sam picked it up, but didn’t point it at her. “Y—You… You’re not…” Her chest heaved with every deep, panicked breath. “How?”

“My name is Castiel,” He began, “and I’m an angel of the Lord.” Her eyes bulged, and she took a step back. “And you, Jaime, are His chosen vessel.”

“E—Excuse me?”

Cas—no, Castiel—stepped forward, forcing Jaime to step away from him. The back of her legs hit the wooden nightstand. “You’re the vessel of God, Jaime.” She tensed when he said her name again. “He's inside of you and has chosen you to contain Him until He has stopped the apocalypse.”

“What? N—No, you’re—That can’t be…” Jaime’s eyes darted around the room, desperate. She looked between the three men, down at the motel floor, then back up to Castiel. “I—I’m not… You…” Her eyes rolled back as she fainted.

Sam and Dean watched as Castiel dipped down to catch her. His left arm hooked around her shoulders, and his right arm gripped at the small of her back as her head fell back on her shoulders. The angel looked at the brothers, brows furrowed in a _‘What now?’_ expression. They looked just as confused, and Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. “That was probably the worst first impression ever, huh?”

No one said anything.

 

Jaime groaned as she opened her eyes, blinking away the haze. She sat up carefully and saw Sam and Dean staring at her. She stared back, eyes narrowing in confusion. Then she remembered. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand pressed against her mouth, silencing her. An arm pushed down on her shoulders and chest and held her down on the bed.

Castiel hovered over her, his lips set in a thin line. “Don’t scream.” He said. “We’re not going to hurt you.” She mumbled something beneath his hand. “Do you remember who I am?” She nodded. “Do you remember them—Sam and Dean?” He jerked his head towards the two, and she glanced over at them. They had stood out of their seats when Castiel pushed her down, and she looked back at him, nodding again. “Do you remember what I told you?” Her brows furrowed. “You—the vessel of God, meant to host Him until He stops the end of the world. Do you remember?” He spoke quickly, and she nodded once more. Castiel’s eyes—blue, she realized now that he was so close—moved over her face before he removed his hands.

Jaime scrambled backwards on the bed until her back hit the headboard. She pulled her knees to her chest and crossed her arms, holding the sleeves of her coat. Castiel sat at the end of the bed, and her eyes darted between him and the two men at the other side of the room. “This… I—I’m not dreaming.” Her voice was quiet. “Th—This is real, isn’t it? I—I’m…” She looked down. “The vessel of God.”

“Yes.” Her head shot up when Castiel spoke. “It’s…an immense responsibility, one I can’t even begin to imagine bearing.” He faced her, and she tensed. “But He chose you, Jaime. He knew you’d be able to handle it; you’re strong and capable, and you’re what God needs to complete His mission here on Earth.” He moved closer to her. “Jaime, listen. I swear, I will—“

“No.” Her hand shot out, palm open, and the angel went silent. _Angel…_ “Don’t come any closer, don’t—don’t say anything else, please. I—I’m not… Just…” She chuckled nervously. “I’m terrified.”

“Jaime, please, listen to me.” He started again. “I swear, on everything I believe in, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.” She didn’t say anything. “God—my Father—called out to me, and that’s how I found you. He told me to watch over the vessel—to protect you, Jaime—and I will. But if, for any reason, I am ever away from you, Sam and Dean will be here to protect you, as well.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait—what?” Dean said. His voice startled Jaime, and she watched him cross the room, shaking his head. “No, no, no—I did _not_ sign up for this.”

“Do you think I’d bring my Father’s vessel to you just for a simple introduction?” Castiel said. “My intentions were for you to keep her safe if I am unable to.”

Dean held his arms out, as if Castiel should have known better. “Dude, I don’t do babysitting.”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“What?”

Jaime chewed on her lip as three pairs of eyes turned to her. “I—I, uh… It—It’s not babysitting if I… I’m twenty-three.” She repeated quietly.

“Really?” Sam asked. She nodded, and he looked a little impressed. “Well, you—you look good. Y’know, for your age.”

“Dude.” Dean scoffed. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

Jaime pressed her face into her hands, staring at Sam through her fingers. She lowered them after a moment and turned to Castiel. “What’s gonna happen to me?”

“It’s likely that the angels and many creatures on the planet felt God descend." Castiel explained, and Jaime looked confused. “They can feel His presence when He’s among them.”

“Wait—Wait a minute, what? You… You said _‘creatures?’_ ” She stuttered out. “You mean, like… Like, murderers and—and weirdos, right? N—Not actual…monsters…”

“No, he meant…real monsters.” Sam said.

“Cas said he’s an angel, kid. What, you thought he was just talkin’ crazy?” Dean laughed. “Man, I _wish._ ”

Sam shot Dean a look. “When my brother said we were hunters, he meant we… We hunt monsters. We fight them to help people, to keep people safe. Ghosts, vampires, demons—it’s all real.” Her face paled. “Cas said that God chose you as His vessel so He could stop the devil and the apocalypse. If that’s true, then we could _really_ use you on our side.”

“The devil…” She muttered, turning away from Sam. She tugged on her coat and chewed on her lip. “The—The apocalypse? No, I don’t… None of that—None of this can be real; there’s no way!” She faced Castiel. “I—I shot you, but… That was just some—some cheap trick; you kidnapped me for—for whatever reason, I don’t know!”

“Why would I do that to you, Jaime?” He said. “You think I’d make up some extravagant lie just to keep you here?”

“ _Yes!_ ” She looked between the three, distraught. “Please, I’m nobody, just a—a B-average college student! Just—Just take me back home, please! I won’t say anything, I won’t tell anyone—I swear!”

“You can’t go back.” Castiel said. She opened her mouth to protest, but he didn’t let her. “Jaime, listen to me; I am not lying to you. Many creatures—if not all of them—know that God is here on Earth. I’m not sure if they know He’s taken a vessel, but they will be searching with the intent to kill Him—to kill _you._ ” She stared at him with wide eyes. “You cannot leave; the risk of you getting killed is too great.”

“As much as I hate the babysitting gig, Cas is right.” Dean agreed. He moved close and rested his hands on his knees, lowering himself to her level some. “We’re not lying to you, kid. Everything we said is legit; monsters, the devil, the apocalypse, God—all of it. And if you’ve really got the Big Man inside you, I can think of a few monsters we can test His mojo on.” He grinned at the thought, but when Jaime said nothing, he sighed and leaned away. “But, yeah... You should probably stay with us. Better off here than trying to, y’know, make a break for it and winding up dead in some ditch.”

Castiel turned around to face Dean, incredulous, and he grunted in pain when Sam stepped on his foot. Jaime stared at the bedsheets. “There are monsters—real, actual monsters—out there that—that wanna kill me. Who are looking for me…just to kill me…” She lifted her hands and ran them through her hair. “I could die. Th—That’s what you’re telling me. If I leave, y—you’re gonna kill me. I’m going to die. I—I haven’t finished college, I’ve never even traveled outside the state, I’m only three years with my boyfriend, I’ve never—I've never even—“

“You’re not going to die, Jaime.” Castiel interrupted, falling to sit in front of her and gripping her shoulder. She stiffened under his touch and tried to move away, but his hold was strong. “Sam, Dean, and I—we will keep you safe.”

She glanced down at his hand. “You’d think that would sound reassuring, but it doesn’t.” She twisted away from him, and his hand fell into his lap. She looked up at them. “Not when it’s coming from a bunch of kidnappers.”

Castiel looked shocked. “Jaime, I assure you, I did what I had to. It’s all to keep you safe. If God hadn’t called out—if I hadn’t found you—you wouldn’t have lasted the rest of the week. Something else would have gotten to you first, and you—“

“Stop.” Jaime pressed her head against the top of her knees. “Please, I don’t… I—I don’t want…” Her shoulders trembled, and she didn’t look up. “Can I just—just go back to sleep? That’s all I want right now, please.”

Castiel glanced back at the two hunters. “Yeah, kid.” Dean said. “Go ahead and rest up.”

“We all should.” Sam said.

Dean walked back to the chair he had been sleeping on. Sam sat down on his own bed, rubbing his hands down his face before he got under the covers. Castiel turned to Jaime, reaching out to try and comfort her. She flinched away and moved to the furthest edge of the bed, slipping the covers over her body and up to her chin. He stayed by her for a moment longer, before he stood and moved back to the table.

Jaime listened as each one of them got settled in for the night. She chewed on her lip to keep quiet as she shut her eyes and cried herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally!!! i liked writing this chapter!! i feel like sam and dean and castiel could have been done better, but i'm not used to writing for them so there's room to improve!!!  
> we learn about jaime and what her whole deal is, too!! and yeah, i did see episode 11x20 (SPOILER) so i know the whole chuck-god thing is canon now but cmon. this is FANfiction. let me live vicariously through my poor OC ;;;;;  
> i hope everything makes sense... i had to go back and check out chapter 1 and make sure i stayed consistent with certain things in this chapter; i'm probably gonna have to do that with the next chapter too  
> i hope you enjoyed this chapter!! next one has a familiar face, even only for a moment!!  
> title is a song called Disparate Youth by Santigold!!


	3. Bad Luck

**WELLINGTON, OHIO — JAN. 21, 2010**

By the time the police scanner had announced _‘a possible 187 at the old paper mill on Route 6’_ , Sam and Dean knew next to nothing about the vessel of God staying with them. It had been kind of— _really_ —awkward the past few days. Castiel would check up on her every so often, but she didn’t talk to him—she would hardly look at him. She didn’t say much to Sam and Dean, either. They had tried to start conversations with her, but she either shook her head or ignored them.

The morning after Castiel had brought her to them, Sam and Dean told her they were headed to Wellington, about an hour north from Wooster. She sat quietly in the corner of the Impala’s backseat, staring out the window. Dean would glance at her through the rear view mirror. Sam told her a bit about what it was they were going to look at. The police had claimed it was a bear attack, but bears don’t follow people into their homes, up the stairs, and into their bedrooms to commit murder. She hadn’t said anything.

On the way there, they stopped at a store and let Jaime pick out some clothes. Her t-shirt and shorts were getting dirty, and people would stare at her for walking around without shoes. She had looked for the cheapest, simplest things—a grey t-shirt, jeans, socks, and a pair of boots. She wanted to keep her coat. The cashier had given the three of them a strange look as she rang up the items. Jaime didn’t put the clothes on until they made it to the motel. Sam gave her one of his oversized flannels, saying just one coat wouldn’t be enough to keep her warm. She muttered a quiet _‘Thank you.’_

When Sam and Dean came back from the police station, she was sitting against the headboard while Castiel sat at the foot. She stared at him with apprehensive, wide eyes. He asked them what they had found out, and left when they said they’d watch Jaime until they had to leave again. Sam agreed to head to the victim’s house, while Dean stayed at the motel to dig up some dirt on the victim. He wanted to try talking to Jaime again, but decided against it and let her watch T.V. Half an hour later, Sam came back and they came to the conclusion that they were after a trickster—specifically, the same one they had faced twice before.

It wasn’t until the officer on the scanner said to send everybody that they decided to leave. Dean commented on how weird the call sounded. “Weird enough to be our guy.” Sam answered. They spent the next few minutes packing up the wooden stakes Dean had been carving.

Jaime watched them, forearms crossed on top of her knees. Their hands worked fast, she noticed, and Dean walked over after zipping up his duffel bag. “Hey, uh… Are you gonna be okay?” He asked. She stared up at him. “I mean… You’re gonna be alone for a little while, at least until Cas comes back. I just…wanna make sure you won’t do anything stupid.”

She nodded and turned away from him, looking back to the T.V. _Dr. Sexy, M.D._ was playing. “I’ll be okay.” She said.

Dean watched her for a moment longer, before he sighed as Sam urged him out the door. “There’s a gun on the kitchen table for you, if you need it.” Sam said, then added, “I hope you don’t.” The door shut, and Jaime could hear the opening of car doors and the start-up of an engine. She listened as the Impala drove away from the motel and looked at the table. The sight of the gun made her shiver. The digital clock on the nightstand read _4:26 p.m._ She gave Castiel until _4:30_ to show up.

 

It was _4:29_ when he appeared at the side of the bed. She jumped, letting out a startled gasp and gripping the pillows. “Are you going to react this way every time I appear?” He asked, sitting down on the other bed.

She didn’t answer and scoot to the further edge, putting even more space between them.

They sat in silence for a long while, the television filling in for the lack of conversation between them. She could feel him watching her, but didn’t look at him. His presence was unsettling.

“Can I ask you a question?” His gruff voice cut through the air. When she didn’t respond, he continued. “What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Being…” He paused. “Being the vessel of God.” Disbelief crossed her face. “I imagine it’s like being the vessel of an angel, only much worse. Like chained to a comet the size of a solar system, or an entire galaxy.”

Jaime chewed her lip and stood up, heading for the bathroom. Castiel said something to her, but she closed the door in the middle of his sentence. She leaned up against the wood, letting her head fall back on her shoulders. Her brows knit together as tears started to fall, and she brought a hand up to cover her mouth.

Sam and Dean didn’t come back that night.

 

**JAN. 22, 2010**

“Castiel?”

“Yes?”

Jaime shifted a bit as she sat at the kitchen table. Castiel had gotten her food that morning when she woke up, but she hadn’t eaten much of it. He watched T.V. while she ate. “Can I go out and stretch my legs? I just—I’m feeling a little cramped in her, and I wanted to—“

“No.” He said. “It’s too risky. You need to stay inside.”

He turned to her, and the two stared at each for a moment. She looked away first, focusing back on her food. _What a crap excuse._ She eyed the gun, still on the table—untouched—but turned away from it as she ate.

 

“So,” Castiel said, “what, uhm… What were you doing before, uh…”

He trailed off, and Jaime stared at him. _Is… Is he serious?_ “Why do you care?” She asked, voice sharp and short.

“I was—I was just curious.”

She stared up at the ceiling, lying on her back. “I was in college.”

“What... What were you studying?”

“Computer programming.”

“What about your family?”

“We weren’t close.”

“Oh.” The two of them didn’t speak again for a while. Castiel exhaled, standing up and wiping his hands on his slacks. “I’ll be outside.” Jaime closed her eyes. She didn’t the hear door open or close when Castiel vanished from the motel room.

Sam and Dean didn’t come back that night, either.

 

**JAN. 23, 2010**

“Something’s wrong.”

Jaime lifted her head off the kitchen table and watched the angel pace the room.

“Sam and Dean have been gone too long.” His gaze was on the floor. “No contact, no clues as to where they could have gone—“

“Isn’t it normal for them disappear for a few days?”

Castiel shook his head. “Even if they do, they usually call.” Then he muttered, “Bobby hasn’t even heard from them.”

Jaime raised a brow. _Bobby?_ She didn’t have time to ask as Castiel walked towards her. She sat up and leaned back in the chair.

“I have to go find them, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I have to leave you alone.” Her eyes widened, and he saw the change in her expression. He leaned forward and pressed a hand against the table, trapping her between him and the chair. “Jaime, listen to me. You cannot leave this room. I can ward it against most creatures, but you can’t leave. I can’t keep you safe while I’m gone.”

She stared up at him, then after a moment, she nodded. “I won’t leave.” Castiel watched her then stood upright, seeming satisfied with her answer.

“I’ll be back.” He said, and he disappeared.

Jaime sat back in the chair and looked around the room. _He left me alone…_ She stood out of the chair and took a few steps forward, waiting to see if he would reappear. He didn’t. _He left me all alone._

She moved quickly and grabbed a duffel bag near one of the beds, stuffing two flannels Sam or Dean had left out inside. She took a pillow from off one of the beds and shoved that inside, as well. She took a few waters out of the fridge and headed towards the door. She gripped the handle, then stopped and looked back at the pistol, still on the kitchen table. She stared at it, then swallowed and grabbed it off the table. She shoved it into the pocket of her coat as she threw open the door and ran out of the motel room.

 

Jaime groan as she hiked along the side of the dirt road. _Aren’t there supposed to be payphones on highways?_ She adjusted the duffel bag, having slung the straps over her shoulders to wear it like a backpack. The pistol felt heavy in the deep pocket of her coat, and her feet hurt in her boots. She didn’t know how long she had been walking, but the sun had set some time ago, amd the moon and the streetlights were her only source of visibility.

She had stopped at a few diners and even less motels scattered along the highway, asking if they had a phone. They said she needed to buy a meal or rent a room to use it. With no money, she had to leave and keep walking. Few cars drove down the road, and none that passed her stopped when she held out her thumb in hopes of catching a ride.

Thoughts about Castiel, and Sam and Dean crossed her mind. Where had the brothers disappeared to? Had Castiel found them yet? If he had, was he looking for her now? The last thought made her walk a little faster. She raised her head to look up at the sky. _I wonder what it’s like up there, now that… Now that He’s down here._ She clutched at the fabric over her chest. 

The stars shined above, and she let out a heavy sigh. _I’m so tired… I can’t stop, I have to keep going._ She let her hand drop to her side, trying to ignore how heavy her body felt. It started to feel like she was working on autopilot, like she was just moving forward and not paying attention. She could feel her steps growing sluggish as her eyes began to slide shut.

“Jaime!”

She snapped awake at the voice, and she whipped around, searching for whoever called out to her. She panicked a little, not knowing who it could have been. “…Hello?” She asked, wondering if she had imagined it.

“Jaime!” A young woman came out of the darkness, brown hair tied back and an arm waving high.

“Shannon…” Jaime breathed, before she ran to her friend. She slammed into her and wrapped her arms around the other woman. “Shannon, oh, my God! How—How are you—What, I don’t…” She pulled away and looked her friend up and down. She wore a large coat over a dark sweater and a pair of dark jeans. Zip-up boots were on her feet, and a large backpack was around her shoulders. “What the _hell_ are you doing here?”

“I came looking for you!” Shannon said, holding onto Jaime's shoulders. “You’ve been missing for almost two weeks, I—I had no idea what happened to you!”

Jaime stared at her friend’s concerned expression, before she hugged her again. “Jesus, I’m so glad to see you!” Then asked, “How did you find me?”

“Some people in the neighborhood said they saw you leave the night you disappeared.” She explained. “That you just—just walked off in the middle of the night and didn’t stop. I—I guess I just…followed your trail or something.”

Jaime nodded, still in disbelief. _She came looking for me…_ “I just… God, the crap that’s happened to me, Shannon, you—you wouldn’t…” A gust of wind blew past them, and Jaime shivered. She gripped the sleeves of her coat, rubbing them up and down. “Hey, can we walk and talk? I—I wanna keep moving.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Shannon said, and they continued down the road together. “So, what were you doing? Disappearing and ending up in Ohio? Do you even know anyone here?”

Jaime shook her head, laughing some. “Nope. Not at all. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know how I got here.” She didn’t need to look to see the baffled stare on Shannon’s face. “I remember being outside your parent’s house that night, and then I was somewhere in Ohio.”

“What happened?”

"You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It—It’s pretty crazy.”

“C’mon, it can’t be the craziest thing I’m gonna hear.”

Jaime ran a hand through her slightly-greasy hair, sighing. “Where do I start?”

“The beginning is usually a good place.” Shannon shrugged, offering her friend a comforting smile.

 

“So, this Castiel-guy tells you not to leave, and right after he—what did you say— _‘vanished’_ , you ran out of there?” Shannon repeated, a skeptical smile on her face.

Jaime swallowed some of the energy drink Shannon had given to her a while back. “Mhmm.” She pointed to the duffel bag on her back. “Packed up some shirts and a pillow, then I left.” She tapped her fingers on the can. “Castiel... He said that…I could die if I left, but… He was definitely lying, y’know—trying to scare me so I wouldn’t go anywhere.”

“Did he really vanish? Like, _poof_ out of the room or something, or was it more like—like he faded away?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I’m not exactly okay since all,” She gestured around, arms wide, “ _this_ happened, y’know?”

Shannon nodded, watching Jaime take the last sip of the energy drink and dropping the can to the ground. The redhead stomped on it, flattening it, and kicked it to the side. “So, let me make sure I’ve got this right. Sam and Dean Winchester, with the help of their _angel-friend_ Castiel, somehow managed to kidnap you from my house in Utah—without actually being there—and bring you to who knows where in Ohio because you’re supposed to be the vessel of God?”

Jaime sighed as she nodded. “Mhmm… Told you it was crazy, but yeah—that’s it.”

“But if _‘monsters’_ are looking for you, why haven’t they found you?”

“I don’t know.” She said, then thought for a moment. “Well, Castiel said that he put some kind of _‘warding’_ to keep everything out back at the motel, but that’s just…” She shrugged, not bothering to finish. “Whatever; I left, and I’m not going back. I never want to see them again.” Jaime smiled when she heard her friend chuckle. It felt good to have a familiar face with her, amd a comfortable silence fell between the two. After a whule pf walking, Jaime's eyes went wide and she stopped, realizing something. “Shannon?”

“Yeah?” The brunette turned around.

“You said Sam and Dean _‘Winchester.’_ ”

She nodded. “Uh, yeah… You told me those weirdos’ names, remember?”

“I never told you their last name.” Shannon went quiet as she lowered her head, and Jaime swallowed. “Shannon?”

“You know, for someone who went to school for computer programming,” Shannon chuckled and raised her head, “you think you’d be a lot smarter than this.”

Her eyes were ccompletely black, and Jaime stepped back as a terrified gasp escaped her. Shannon slipped off her backpack, dropping it to the ground, and crossed her arms. “Wh—What…?” Jaime stuttered out. “Shannon, you… What’s going on—Why are your eyes…?” Shannon took a step forward, and Jaime backed up again. “What _are_ you?”

She gave an unimpressed scoff. “Some vessel of God you are—you can’t even tell who’s a demon and who isn’t.”

 _Demon?_ “What do you mean—“

“Oh, _come on!_ ” Shannon shouted, slapping her hands against her thighs. The sound made Jaime flinch. “One of those _idiots_ must have told you about demons! You know—the bad guys, servants to Lucifer.”

“I—I don’t…” She shook her head. “Shannon, we’ve—we’ve been friends for... _years!_ You—You can’t be a…”

“Kid, I’ve been using this girl as a meat suit long before I met you, okay?” Jaime’s eyes widened, and Shannon laughed. “Oh, my God, the look on your face! Oh, man!”

“So—So, the whole time I’ve known you—our friendship, everything… That was just some lie?”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, you got it all wrong.” Shannon said. “I liked you, Jaime, I really did. You were a pretty amusing human, lots of ambition, and—man—were you fun at a party.” She chuckled, then sucked on her teeth. “But, now—with everything that’s happening—I gotta start picking sides, y’know? And I’m not on yours. I mean, finding out _you’re_ God’s vessel? Jeez, that was a smack in the face!”

“What do you mean?”

“You weren’t in the bed that morning, and the stench of self-righteousness was everywhere.” She grinned. “We all felt Him touch down, Jaime, so being the smart hell spawn I am, I decided to follow the trail. I put two-and-two together when you hadn’t contacted me in a few days. You’re usually such a stickler for texting people and making sure they’re okay, ‘cause you just care so much, don’t you?” She said the last part in a high-pitched, mocking voice.

Jaime didn’t say anything.

“I still can’t believe it, though. You’re His vessel.” A smile stretched across her lips. “Not only is my father here, but _the_ Father is, too! Oh, the apocalypse is gonna be a _great_ show!” She clapped her hands together, startling Jaime again. “I wonder if Lucifer will give me a front row seat if I bring you to him.”

Jaime’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No, Shannon, listen! I—I wasn’t telling the truth, I was just—just kidding! None of that is—“

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Jaime sucked in a breath. Her friend’s voice—no, the demon’s—was deadly. “There’s no point in trying to lie to me, Jaime. I know you’re God’s vessel—hell, I would’ve known even if you hadn’t told me! I can smell it, you know—the stench of God.” She inhaled deeply through her nose, then made a disgusted face. “The whole place reeks of it.” She wore a nasty grin. “You should’ve listened to that angel, kid. You would’ve been much safer in that motel room.”

The demon lunged at Jaime, and she screamed and jumped out of the way—just in time. Shannon tripped over her feet and fell on her hands and knees. Jaime turned and broke into a sprint. The duffel bag bounced against her back, and she tossed it away. A growl came from behind her, and the demon slammed into her side, wrapping her arms around Jaime’s torso and knocking her off her feet. The two tumbled down the hill, off the side of the highway. She shoved Shannon away from her and rolled further into the ditch, hitting something on the way down.

Jaime groaned as pain rushed through her head. Her vision was blurry, and she couldn’t hear anything for a few moments. She pushed herself off the ground, standing and swaying a little once on her feet. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them slowly, trying to get rid of the blur around the edges. _The gun!_ Her hand fumbled inside her coat pocket, and she let out a short breath when she touched the weapon. She pulled it out, but screamed when Shannon was suddenly standing in front of her. She fired on impulse—it missed—and stumbled backwards when the demon swung an arm at her, knocking the pistol out of her hands.

Shannon charged again, ramming into Jaime’s torso and pushing the air out of her. She collapsed onto the ground—coughing loudly—as the demon pinned her down. The grin on Shannon’s face was menacing, and black eyes moved over Jaime’s terrified expression. This wasn’t Shannon. It was a monster. “This is pathetic.” She scoffed. “You can’t even protect yourself.” Jaime turned away as the demon leaned in close. “Why did God choose you, Jaime? You’re no one special—just some girl. I know that for a fact.” She chuckled in her ear. “No one will miss you when you’re gone.”

Jaime squeezed her eyes shut as a sob slipped out, and she heard the demon laugh again. _I’m going to die._ She felt the demon shift above her, but she didn’t get off. _I should have listened to Castiel, I should’ve stayed, I shouldn’t have run away._ Tears fell down the side of her face. _I don’t wanna die!_ “Help! Someone, please!”

“Scream all you want, Jaime!” Her hands tightened to a bruising grip around Jaime’s wrists as she cackled. “No one’s gonna hear you, no one’s gonna help you! You’re all alone out here!”

“Please, help!” Jaime continued, hoping—praying—someone would hear her. “Please, anyone, help me!” _Someone, please! Please, please, please—help me! I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna—_

_Jaime._

Her eyes snapped open, and she stopped screaming. The demon stared down at her. “Oh, you done?” Jaime didn’t say anything. “Finally. It’s gonna be so much easier take care of you if you don’t—!”

Shannon growled as the body underneath her began to radiate a pure, white light. An ear-splitting whine filled the air around them, and Shannon’s hands flew away from Jaime and pressed against her ears. The demon threw her head back, a shriek tearing from her throat as blood dripped from her ears and her eyes felt like they were on fire. She rolled away from the glowing woman, writhing on the ground as the ringing became louder. Shannon gave one final scream that echoed in the darkness, then fell still.

Both the light and the ringing began to fade. Jaime’s vision returned, and she gasped for air when she opened her eyes. She was sweaty, and her whole body shook as she looked around, freezing when she saw the body lying next to her. She moved away from the demon, confused when she didn’t move. Hesitantly, she leaned forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Sh—Shannon?” She shook her gently, and the demon rolled over. Jaime slapped a hand over her mouth, pushing herself away and muffling frightened cries.

Shannon’s face was set in a slack but open-mouthed scream. Fresh blood oozed from her ears, and empty, smoking holes were where her eyes used to be, completely burned away. She smelled awful.

Jaime looked around, but saw no one else. She looked down at her hands, at herself. Specks of blood littered over the grey shirt and her palms. Her breathing was shaky as she wiped her hands against her coat then on her jeans, desperate to get rid of the blood. Hot tears ran down her face. She didn’t know what happened, she was the only person there. _I killed her… Oh, God, I killed her… No…no, no, no, no, no, no, no!_ She forced herself to stand on trembling legs, and cried as she turned and ran.

 

**JAN. 24, 2010**

“So what now, boys?” Gabriel shrugged. “We just gonna stare at each other for the rest of eternity?”

“Well,” Dean started, “first, you’re gonna bring Cas back from wherever it is you stashed him.”

Gabriel raised a brow. “Oh, am I?”

“Yeah, you are. Or we’re gonna dunk you in holy oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel.”

Gabriel frowned as he watched Dean’s face, searching to see if he was bluffing or not. He glanced at Sam, who wore the same serious expression. He sighed as he raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Dean turned around to see Castiel standing behind him—face still a little cut up, but he was there.

“Cas, you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He looked at Dean, then focused back on archangel trapped in the holy fire. “Hello, Gabriel.”

“Hey, bro.” He smirked. “How’s the search for Daddy going?” His eyebrows shot-up in mock surprise. “Word is you managed to find Him! Or, technically, _her._ ” Blue eyes narrowed as Gabriel continued. “Must really suck, huh—waiting all this time to see Dad, only to find out He’s stuck inside some vessel. Has she even given Him full consent yet, or is He just wasting away in there? You know,” He said, pacing a little in the small circle, “if _I_ were you, I’d have dealt with that vessel a long time ago. You’re better off without her. Maybe you should just ditch her, and let her fend for herself. Killing her might be the better option, though, just to make sure she—“

“Enough, Gabriel.”

His smirk grew. “Still so loyal to a Dad who doesn’t even care.”

“Okay, we’re outta here. C’mon, Sam.” Dean said, walking towards the warehouse door. He grabbed Castiel’s arm on the way, and the angel looked at him. “Let’s go, Cas.”

“Uh, guys?” They didn’t say anything as Gabriel watched them. “What—hey! So, what? You’re just—You’re just gonna leave me here forever?”

Dean stopped. “No, we’re not.” He faced the archangel. “Because we don’t screw with people the way you do. And for the record,” His voice grew louder, “this isn’t about some fight between your brothers, or some destiny that can’t be stopped, or even some weird Daddy issues you all have. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family!” His hand shot out, breaking the glass that covered the fire alarm and pulling the lever. A bell rang out, and water rained down from the sprinklers rigged along the roof of the warehouse, dlusing the ring of holy fire. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.” Gabriel glared at Dean as he, Sam, and Castiel left.

 

They returned to the motel around two that afternoon. Castiel came with them, still feeling a little weak after what Gabriel had done to him. Sam opened the motel door and took off his jacket with a sigh, then stopped. “Where’s the girl?”

“What?” Dean looked around the room when he entered, brows furrowed. “Jaime? Jaime, you in here?”

“She’s gone?” Castiel walked in, coat trailing behind him. He looked around the motel room, spinning in a circle and sighing when he stopped. “Damn it. She must have left after I went to find you two.” He ran a hand through his hair then pressed it against his forehead. “I don’t know how long it’s been; maybe—maybe she’s all right. If I go now, I think I can track her and see where—“

A noise came from the bathroom, and the three men fell silent. They heard it again—someone was moving around, whimpering. Dean moved towards the door, gun in his hand. Sam reached for his own weapon, and Castiel took a step forward. Dean gripped the handle of the bathroom door, yanked it open, and was met with a loud scream and a pistol pointed at him.

“Whoa, whoa, _whoa!_ ” He shouted, putting his hands up when he saw Jaime sitting on the bathroom floor. She stopped screaming but kept the gun on him. “Hey, it’s me! It’s Dean, relax!” She shook her head, eyes and cheeks glistened with tears.

“Jaime, it’s Sam—it’s us, we swear!” Sam spoke up, rushing forward to help Dean. He saw the gun shaking in her hands and moved past his brother, trying to get a little closer to her. She shoved the gun towards him, and he stepped back.

“ _No!_ ” She shrieked, pressing herself further back against the wall between the sink and the bathtub. “I—I don’t—I don’t believe you! Y—You could be _demons,_ just like her!”

“ _’Her?’_ Jaime, listen—we’re us, I promise.”

“You think we’d let some demons get the best of us?” Dean said, and her hazel eyes shot to him. “We’re too experienced for that kind of kid’s stuff; we’ve dealt with worse.” He sounded a bit calmer with Sam beside him.

Jaime stared at them, chest heaving with each breath, before she looked down at the pistol in her hands. She let go of it, and it clattered to the bathroom floor. “O—Oh, God…” She wrapped her arms around herself, not looking up at the brothers or the angel standing in the doorway. “I—I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t—I thought that… _I’m so sorry._ ”

Dean stepped forward again, a bit slower this time. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s not the first time we’ve had a gun pointed at us.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“I—I thought you were d—demons, like Shannon, and—and I just—“

“Who’s Shannon?” Castiel asked, pushing past Sam and standing behind Dean. Her head shot up to look at him. “Jaime, who is that?”

She chewed on her lip. “…Can you help me up?” She didn’t ask anyone in particular, but Dean moved and held her upper-arms as she stood. Her legs shook as he helped her to one of the beds, and they could now see the blood on the front of her shirt, coat, and hands.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t listen to you.” She confessed, glancing at Castiel. “When you left, I... I ran. I tried to find a phone, I wanted to call somebody. I just—I wanted to go home; I thought that—that someone would come for me." She rubbed her hands together. “I’d been walking forever, I—I was so tired, but then I… My friend, from college—I’d known her for years—she showed up. She said I’d been missing, and that she came looking for me, and I was so, so happy.” She stopped a moment. “I told her everything. About you three, being the vessel of God, the apocalypse— _everything._ Then, she…” Jaime took a deep breath, shuddering.

“She what?”

“Her eyes went black. She said—She said she was a demon, and that… That she’d been one for a while, through our whole friendship.” Jaime stared down at the floor. “She said she could... _smell_ God on me… She tried to kill me, but I—I…”

“Jaime, what did you do?”

She looked up at Castiel. Her eyes were so tired. “I think I killed her.” They didn’t say anything, and she continued. “I—I mean, I thought… I remember screaming for help, and—and then a… A voice called out to me, and… I think I passed out or something, but when I woke up, Shannon, she… She was _bleeding,_ and her—her eyes were gone, and... _Oh, my God._ ” Jaime ran her blood-stained hands through her greasy hair. “I killed her.”

“No, Jaime, you didn’t kill anyone.” Castiel said. “God did.”

She didn’t look up at him as she shook her head. “What?” Dean asked, both he and Sam turning to the angel. “What do you mean?”

“God heard her—He must have. He heard your cries, Jaime, and He protected you.” He stepped towards her, and she moved away from him. “Whatever it is you saw, that’s only a speck of what He can do. You have that power inside of you, Jaime, you just need to allow God full consent, and then He can—“

“All right, Cas, I think that’s enough.” Dean interrupted, stepping between the angel and the woman. “Kid’s already stressed enough, okay? She doesn’t need a God-lecture right now, she needs to get cleaned up.”

“But, Dean, she—“

“It’s been a long day—for all of us. We can talk about it some other time.” Dean walked into the bathroom, then came back and tossed a towel at Jaime. “Here you go. Blood isn’t a good look for you.” She stared down at the towel. “…Hey, what’s up?”

“I just… I thought monsters would look like, y’know, _monsters,_ not like friends. Not like Shannon.”

Dean put his hands on his hips. “In this line of work, you get used to it.” He watched her stand and head to the bathroom, and he ran a hand through his hair when she shut the door. He turned to Sam. “Dude, I can’t—I don’t think I can do this.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do, Dean? We can’t just ditch her.”

“She’ll learn how to defend herself.” Castiel said. “With our help, and God’s, she’ll become stronger.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that, not just Sam and Dean.

The older Winchester crossed his arms. “Well, why can’t she be strong now? Y’know, put an end to the apocalypse right now?”

Castiel didn’t look at him. “It must not be time yet. But, I have faith, Dean—so should you. It _will_ happen. God will stop the end of the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i liked writing this one :>  
> i feel like i made jaime too...vulnerable??? weak??? but i mean...she's been with winchesters and co. for like, 2-3 days so i guess she'd still be a bit shook up by everything. so i guess that's a good thing.  
> i originally had it so shannon was just some random hitchhiker jaime met up wtih, but i like the idea of her having to kill a friend because i like making my characters suffer u v u (shannon was jaime's dorm mate/friend in chapter 1 btw)  
> if things are a bit confusing that's cool i'm confused by my own crap half the time anyway so...yeah. also gabriel!!! he's neat too. my plan is to currently try and post 5 chapters and then write and post little one shots of things that happened in the salvation verse but can't be added to the actual work (i hope that made sense...)  
> hope you enjoyed reading this chapter!!! another familiar face will make an appearance next chapter, too!!!  
> title comes from Bad Luck by Social Distortion!!


	4. I Wanna Get Better

**VERMILLION, OHIO — JAN. 25, 2010**

Jaime slid into a corner of the backseat as the Impala made a sharp turn. Dean and Sam both wore intense expressions, and the older Winchester turned the wheel again. She clung onto the leather upholstery to stop herself from sliding. “Can’t you slow down?”

“We’re almost there.” Sam said.

It was around ten-thirty in the morning. Sam, Dean, and Jaime had left the motel in Wellington late the night before and drove into the early morning without stopping. They had gotten a text around seven—almost four hours ago—from a man named Chuck. He told them he was in a life or death situation. Dean had swerved the car around, heading back the way they came.

The car jerked to the left as Dean turned into a driveway. Jaime was thrown against the backseat again. She spotted a sign that read _‘Welcome to The Pineview Hotel’_ before Dean slammed on the brakes. She reeled forward as he and his brother got out of the car. He stopped and glanced at the hotel parking lot. Jaime followed his gaze; there were at least three other Impala’s parked next to each other. When she looked back at Dean, she could see his lips twitch into a smile.

“Dean.” Sam said, snapping him out of it. “C’mon.”

“Yeah—Yeah, right.” He turned to Jaime before he ran after his brother. “Wait here.”

“What?” She leaned forward, pressing a hand against the front seat. “No, Dean, I—Dean, wait!” He ran off. Fingernails scratched at the leather as she looked around the lot. She shook her head and opened the door, climbing out of the car. She ran towards the hotel and around a few bushes to the front entrance. She let out a relieved sigh when she spotted Sam and Dean standing in front of a set of steps, talking to a shorter man with a beard.

“I’m sorry!” The man apologized. “I—I—I don’t understand what could’ve—“ He stopped, then sighed. “Oh, no…”

“What?” Dean snapped.

“Sam!” A voice squealed. Everyone turned to see a woman standing at the top of the entrance steps. She wore a blue vest over a plaid shirt, a dark-khaki skirt, and knee-high socks. A big smile was on her face as she ran down the steps, stopping in front of Sam. “You made it!”

“Oh, uh…” He started, looking the woman over for a moment. “Becky, right?”

“Who’s Becky?” Jaime asked. Dean and Sam jumped and turned around. Dean frowned and opened his mouth to tell her off, but Becky interrupted them.

“Oh, you remembered.” Her voice lowered as she stared at Sam. “You’ve been thinking about me…” Dean rolled his eyes, ignoring the look Sam gave him as he looked at Jaime.

“What are you doing here? I told you to wait in the car.”

“I didn’t want to be left alone. I—I’m not supposed to be, right?” She watched as Becky turned away from Sam to talk to the other man, who Jaime assumed was Chuck. Apparently, Becky had taken his phone from his jeans and texted Sam the address of the hotel, claiming something bad had happened.

“They’re gonna want to see it!” She told him.

“See what?” Sam and Dean said together.

She turned to the brothers. “Oh, my God—I _love_ it when they talk at the same time!”

“Hey, Chuck!” A man holding a clipboard was standing on the hotel porch. “C’mon, pal; it’s show time.”

Becky was barely able to contain her excitement as she ran back up the stairs. Chuck shook his head. “Guys, I’m sorry.” He looked at Sam and Dean, then at Jaime. “For everything.”

She looked up at the brothers, and they shrugged before following Chuck inside. Becky was waiting for them by the door, and she cut in front of the other woman, distancing her from the Winchesters. Jaime frowned as she entered the hotel lobby.

“Hey, Dean!” A heavy-set man walked past Dean, chuckling and holding a beer. “Lookin’ good!”

“Who the hell are you?”

The man turned around, a confused look on his face. The three took in his appearance, and noticed how incredibly _Dean-like_ he looked. “I’m Dean, too. _Duh._ ” He turned and walked off.

Dean turned to Sam, baffled, but stiffened when he spotted something over his brother’s shoulder. Sam and Jaime turned to see what it was. Sam tensed as a scarecrow-character with a scythe headed towards them. Jaime let out a gasp and pressed up against his side, fearful.

The scarecrow stopped in front of them. “Uh-oh, it’s Sam and Dean. I’m in trouble now.” Jaime raised a brow and noticed the soda can in his non-scythe hand. “Have fun you guys.” The scarecrow slashed his scythe—that was actually made of plastic—at Sam before he chuckled and walked off.

Dean looked astonished. “What?”

Sam took a moment to look around the room, and his face fell. Dean and Jaime followed his gaze. Different types of monsters conversed with one another. People with black eyes stood at booths around the lobby. Jaime froze when she noticed the familiar eyes, but raised a puzzled brow when she saw one of them smiling and handing something to someone with a full beard and a baseball cap. She looked at the booths and saw they were covered with an array of merchandise—mugs with pictures of the Impala on them, t-shirts with quotes and sigils printed over the front and back, books with muscular men on the covers stacked on top of one another.

“Becky, what is this?” Sam asked.

“It’s awesome!” She responded in a sing-song voice. “A _Supernatural_ convention, the first ever.”

Sam and Dean turned back to the room. Becky's smiled faded as she looked at Jaime, taking note of how close she stood to Sam. “Dean, what’s going on?”

“No idea,” He said, “but I’m gonna find out.” He turned to Becky. “Where’d Chuck go?”

“Oh, the auditorium.” She pointed to a pair of large double doors on the other side of the room. “He’s getting ready for his Q & A panel.”

Dean and Sam headed towards the room, and Jaime followed close behind them. So did Becky. She tried to walk a little faster than Jaime, trying to get closer to the brothers. They pushed through the doors and entered a room full of people dressed like them, and a few dressed like monsters. They stood behind the last row of chairs, observing.

The man with the clipboard walked up on stage. “Welcome to the first annual _Supernatural_ convention!” He smiled. “At 3:45 in the Magnolia Room, we have the panel _‘Frightened Little Boy: The Secret Life of Dean.’_ ” Dean shook his head. “And at 4:30, there’s the _‘Homoerotic Subtext of Supernatural.’_ ” Sam and Dean looked on in disbelief. “Oh, and of course, the big hunt starts at 7:00 p.m. sharp.”

Applause filled the room, and Becky gave a little cheer as she joined in. “What’s going on?” Jaime asked again, but she was shushed by Dean.

The man—probably the convention manager—held up a hand and silenced the crowd. “But, right now, I’d like to introduce the man himself. The creator and writer of the _Supernatural_ books, the one and only Carver Edlund!”

Chuck hesitantly walked on stage, and the crowd went wild. They clapped, they whistled, they cheered. He smiled nervously, reaching up to grab the microphone. He bumped it and flinched when feedback was heard. “Oh, okay…” He started. “This isn’t nearly as awkward as I…” He trailed off, clearing this throat. “It’s a—a little dry mouth.” He grabbed one of the water bottles and took long, loud gulps. The room was silent.

“Guys, what’s going on?” Jaime asked a third time, turning to the stage. “Who is that?”

“Chuck Shurley.” Dean explained briefly. “Prophet of the Lord.”

“What?”

“He used to have visions about us and things we did.” Sam continued. “He published books about us.”

Jaime blinked. “What?”

“So, I guess…questions?” Hands shot up, and Chuck looked startled. “Uh, uhm… You?” He pointed out into the crowd, and a skinny man dressed like Sam stood quickly.

“Hey, Mr. Edlund—big fan.” He said. “Wow, okay. I was just wondering, where’d you come up with Sam and Dean in the first place?”

“Oh, uh…” Chuck glanced nervously at the back of the room. “I guess they just, came to me.” The man seemed satisfied with the answer and sat back down. Hands went up again. “Okay, uh… Yeah, the—the hook man.”

A man dressed as a monster stood near the back row, a plastic hook over his right hand. “Yeah, why in every fight scene,” He started, voice thick with a heavy German accent, “Sam and Dean are having their gun or knife knocked away by the bad guy? Why don’t they keep it on some kind of bungee?”

Jaime glanced at the brothers. Sam had his head tilted in interest, but Dean looked pissed.

“I, uh… Yeah, I really don’t know—“

“ _Ja,_ follow up.” The man interrupted. “Why can’t Sam and Dean be telling that Ruby is evil?” Sam scoffed. “I mean, she is _clearly_ manipulating Sam into some kind of moral lapse. It’s obvious, _nien?_ ”

“Hey!” Becky shouted, storming towards the hook man. “If you don’t like the books, don’t read ‘em, fritz!”

“Okay, okay!” Chuck said, holding an arm out to diffuse the tension. Becky put her hands on her hips, scowling. The hook man sat down. “Okay, so—so, next question.” More hands shot up. “Uh, y—yeah, you.”

A younger man, also dressed as Sam, stood. “Yeah, at the end of the last book, Dean goes to Hell. So, what happens next?”

“Oh, well, there lies an announcement, a—actually. You’re all gonna find out.” Chuck said. Dean tilted his head, and Sam uncrossed his arms. “Uh, thanks to a wealthy Scandinavian investor, we’re gonna start publishing again.”

Everyone jumped out of their seats, cheering and hollering and clapping. A man somewhere in the crowd screamed in excitement. Becky jumped up and down. Sam and Dean did not look happy. Jaime still had no idea what was going on.

 

Jaime followed Sam and Dean as they left the room. They walked to the hotel lobby and spotted Chuck sitting with Becky, two cocktail glasses between them. Becky’s eyes lit up when she noticed the three. “Hi, Sam!”

Sam nodded briskly, and Chuck sighed as he faced the two hunters. “Excuse us.” Dean told Becky, turning to Chuck. “In case you haven’t noticed, our plates are kinda full, okay? Finding the Colt, hunting the devil,” Dean paused and gestured back to Jaime, and she looked a bit offended, “we don’t have time for this crap!”

“Hey, I didn’t call you!”

“He means the books, Chuck.” Sam said. “Why are you gonna publish more books?”

“Uhm, for food and shelter?”

Dean leaned down threateningly. “Well, who gave you the rights to our life story?”

“An archangel!” Chuck shouted. “And I didn’t want it!”

“Well, the deal’s off, okay? No more books; our lives are not for,” Sam glanced at Becky, “public consumption.”

Chuck looked away from them. Becky’s eyes widened as she stared at him. “Uh, Becky, would you excuse us for just a second?”

She nodded quickly. Chuck stood out of his seat and walked off. “Wait here.” Dean told Jaime as they followed him. He stopped, turned around, and pointed a finger at her. “I mean it.” She nodded.

They disappeared behind a wall. Jaime leaned against the chair Chuck had been sitting in and glanced over at Becky. The woman eyed her. “…Can I help you?”

“Who are you supposed to be?” Becky asked, looking Jaime up and down.

She leaned forward in her chair, forcing Jaime to lean away. “I, uh… I—I’m no one.”

“Then why were you with Sam and Dean?”

“...I’m nobody.” She stood and walked away. She could feel Becky’s eyes on her back as she headed over to the merchandise tables.

 

“Do you guys know what I do for a living?” Chuck asked, turning to Sam and Dean once in the hallway.

“Yeah, Chuck, we know.” Sam answered.

“Then, could you tell me, ‘cause I sure don’t.” He looked around for a moment, lowering his voice. “I’m not a good writer, all right? I’ve got no marketable skills, I’m not some hero who can just hit the road and fight monsters. Until the world ends, I’ve gotta live. Okay? And the _Supernatural_ books are all I’ve got.”

“What made you want to start publishing again?” Sam asked, then added, “Besides some Scandinavian investor.”

Chuck ran a hand over his face. “I… I started getting visions again,” He admitted, “only a lot more clear than before. It—It’s like someone turned the T.V. back on, and adjusted the antenna, too. Like, the signal is stronger… I’m seeing more.”

Dean scoffed. “So, you think just ‘cause you started seeing stuff again, that makes it okay for you to—“

“Dean, wait.” Sam stopped his brother from advancing on the shorter man. “Chuck, when did the visions come back?”

“Uh, around the beginning of the year? Maybe a—a week or so after; why?”

Sam glanced at Dean. “Cas found Jaime a couple weeks after the new year.”

“So?” Dean said, shaking his head. Sam gestured, as if his brother should already know the answer. “What, you think it’s got something to do with her?”

“Or Him.”

“Wait, who?” Chuck asked. “Who—Who are you talking about?”

“Jaime, the redhead out there; she came with us.” Dean jerked his head towards the lobby. “We’re stuck babysitting her whenever Cas can’t.”

“Have you had any visions of us with a woman?” Sam asked the prophet. “Her, specifically.”

Chuck leaned to look past the Winchesters. He spotted the redhead standing at one of the merchandise tables. She scanned the items on display and picked up one of the shirts. He shook his head. “No, I… I haven’t seen her before. Sometimes parts of the visions get, I don’t know,” He waved his hand in front of his face, “ _blocked._ Like there’s a scene missing from the final cut.”

The brothers turned to each other. “Think it’s because of her?”

Dean sighed. “I don’t know, Sam, this is… This is a bit much right now.”

“Wait, who is she?” Chuck asked, crossing his arms. “You said her name’s _‘Jaime?’_ Why—Why haven’t I been able to see her?”

“Maybe it’s because He doesn’t want you to.”

“Who doesn’t want me to?”

“God.”

“…God?”

“Yeah.” Sam said. “We don’t…really know that much about her, but Cas brought her to us about a week ago. He said she’s the vessel of God.”

Chuck went silent. “You can’t be serious? How is that—That’s not…” He looked back out into the lobby. She sat in the chair he had been in, holding a folded up shirt. “Why—Why on Earth does he think she’s _God?_ ”

“He told us God came down to stop the apocalypse, but He needed a vessel because—“

“—‘Cause, apparently, our human senses are too delicate to look at the guy without a meat suit on.” Dean finished.

“Wow, uh…” Chuck stuttered, still staring at Jaime. “That’s…a lot to take in.”

Dean scoffed. “Believe me, we know.”

A loud scream rang out. Sam and Dean looked at each other before they ran past Chuck. “No, guys—Wait!” He called out to them, but they had already disappeared from his sight.

 

Jaime’s head snapped up when an ear-piercing scream split the air. She saw Sam and Dean run up a set of stairs. She threw the shirt down and followed them. At the top of the stairs, she saw a woman in a grey maid uniform on the floor—as if she had been pushed down.

Sam helped her up. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I think so.” She answered breathlessly.

“What happened?” Dean asked. The maid’s expression dropped into something fearful.

“I saw a ghost.”

“A ghost?” A deep voice came from behind Jaime. The skinny man dressed as Sam from Chuck’s panel moved past her, scowling as seriously as he could. “Could you tell us what it looked like?”

“Okay, why don’t you leave this to the grown-ups, pal?” Dean rolled his eyes.

“A woman, in an old-fashioned dress.” The maid described. “She was really old—like a schoolmarm, or something.

“Did she say anything to you?” Another man dressed as Sam asked.

The woman grinned excitedly. “Okay. Gather close, everybody,” Jaime turned to see that a small crowd had formed at the top of the stairs, “for a terrifying tale of terror!” Sam and Dean shook their heads as they moved away.

Jaime followed them into a corner. Becky ran up to them, smiling. “Ooh, the LARPing’s started.”

“What?” Dean’s brow furrowed. “What is that?”

“Live-action role playing.” They turned to Jaime. “It—It’s a game. You...pretend to—to be a character, and you, uh, do what they would do.”

“The convention puts it on.” Becky said, looking at Jaime for a moment longer before handing Sam a piece of paper.

He unfolded it and read it aloud. “ _’Dad’s Journal—Dear Sam and Dean, this hotel is haunted. You must hunt down the ghost. Interview witnesses, discover clues, and find the bones. First team to do so wins a fifty dollar gift card to Sizzler. Love, Dad.’_ ”

“You guys are _so_ gonna win.” Becky chuckled. “Oh, but don’t worry. The hunt actually starts tomorrow; they had to push it back to make room for the _‘Sam Winchester: Hero or Villain?’_ panel.”

“I can’t believe this.” Sam muttered.

“This is ridiculous.” Dean said, moving past Becky. The crowd had dispersed, but he bumped shoulders with a few people who hadn’t gotten downstairs yet. “C’mon, we’re leaving.”

Sam went after his brother, and Jaime saw Becky frown before she ran after them. They headed towards the hotel entrance. Jaime stopped and looked over to the chair she had been sitting in. The black t-shirt was draped over the arm. She grabbed it, then ran back to them.

“Guys?” They didn’t hear her. “Hey, guys?” She spoke a little louder.

“What is it?”

“I, uh… Can you buy this for me?” She held up the shirt. It had short sleeves, and the words _‘SUPERNATURAL’_ were across the front in white.

Dean stared at the shirt. “Why?”

“I just… I don’t have any other clothes, and this one is…” She tugged at the collar of her grey shirt. “It—It has blood on it. I—I don’t want to…” She looked at the floor, chewing her lip. “This is the only one that didn’t look stupid.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, fine.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. “Hurry up. I wanna find a motel; I’m too tired to drive very far right now.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

 

**JAN. 26, 2010**

An electric guitar riff woke Jaime the next morning. She lifted her head off the pillow, squinting to look around the motel room. Sam was asleep on the couch—his legs dangled off the side a bit—and Dean snored on the other bed—his limbs sprawled out over the mattress. She looked at the nightstand and saw Dean’s cell phone ringing. She reached for the it and pressed the green button to answer.

“Hello?” She asked in a tired voice, rubbing at her eyes.

“Uh...” The voice on the other line seemed hesitant when she answered. “Yeah, hi… Who—Who is this?”

“Jaime.”

“Oh, the—the girl with Sam and Dean.” She didn’t say anything back. “It’s, uh, it’s Chuck.”

“Oh, the guy who wrote the books. Hi.”

“Hi.” A beat of silence passed. “Are, uh, Sam and Dean there?”

“They’re sleeping.”

“Can you wake them up?”

“They might get upset, it’s early.”

Chuck sighed. “Okay, well, can—can you take a message?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She shrugged, as if he could see her. She could hear some kind of commotion in the background on the phone. “Chuck, what’s going on over there?”

“Yeah, uh, something… Something happened. The guests—They were, uh, LARPing, and some guy said that he—he actually got _thrown_ around. By a real ghost.”

 _Oh, no._ “I’ll get Sam and Dean.”

“Thanks.”

She hung up and moved off the bed, leaning over Dean and shaking him. “Dean! Hey, Dean!” She gripped his arm, shaking a little harder. “Dean, wake up!” He jerked, and a hand shot under his pillow. He let out a sharp sigh when he saw who had woken him up.

“What, kid?” He groaned, sitting up. He glanced over at the closed blinds, grimacing at the sunlight shining behind them. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine.” Jaime moved over to Sam. Dean grunted something about that being too early for anything. She knelt down in front of the younger brother, shaking his shoulder. “Sam, get up. C’mon, it’s important!”

He jerked awake. “What’s going on?”

“Chuck called.” She told them. “He said something happened at the hotel, something serious.” They both gave her disbelieving looks. “One of the guests said he saw a ghost. A real one. He said it threw him around.”

“And we’re just supposed to believe him?” Dean said. “The dude could’ve been exaggerating. Nerds do that."

“You could at least, I don’t know, check it out.” She shrugged. “Isn’t that what you guys are supposed to do?”

Dean and Sam looked at each other, and Sam sighed in reluctant defeat as he stood up. “Let’s get going.”

Dean grumbled as he stood to his feet. Jaime moved back to her bed and sat down, eyes falling to her wrists. Disgusting purple bruises in the shape of fingers covered them both. The feeling of Shannon’s hands—no, the _demon’s_ —gripping her tight was still fresh in her mind. She chewed on her lip.

“Jaime.” Her head shot up at Sam’s voice. She moved just in time to catch whatever it was he had thrown at her. It was one of his flannels. “Get dressed, you’re coming with.” He explained. “If this turns out to be a real case, we wouldn’t mind an extra pair of hands.”

 _I can help…_ “Yeah, okay.” She walked into the bathroom, smiling a bit as she closed the door.

 

The three of them arrived back at the Pineview Hotel a few minutes before ten. When they entered the lobby, people dressed in suits wandered around and flashed poorly put together and completely fake authority badges. They found Chuck sitting at the bar.

“Hey, guys,” He looked at the woman between them, “and—and Jaime.”

The corners of her mouth twitched into a small smile. “What’s this about, Chuck?” Sam asked.

“Didn’t you tell them?”

“Yeah, but yesterday’s false alarm put them off.”

Chuck pursed his lips, a little disappointed. “Earlier today, in the middle of the—the LARPing, this guy comes into the lobby, screaming. Says a ghost attacked him. Like, seriously beat him up.” He crossed his arms. “He left a while ago, but the guy he came with is still here.”

“Where?” Dean asked. Chuck pointed to the other side of the bar. A young man sat with a barely-touched beer in front of him, dressed in a leather jacket. Dean looked at him, then at Chuck, then back to the man. He shook his head as he walked over, and Sam followed. Jaime moved to go with them, but stopped when they turned to her after a few steps. “Stay with Chuck.”

She complied with a sigh, sitting on one of the bar stools. She watched brothers talk to the man in the leather jacket. Chuck cleared his throat, and she turned to him. “So, uh… Is it true?” When she raised a brow, he continued. “Sam and Dean said that… Are you really God?”

“No… I’m not _‘God.’_ ” She said, a hint of weariness in her voice. “I can’t _do_ anything He can; I’m weak, and I—I can’t protect myself. That’s why I’m following Sam and Dean everywhere. I just…” Chuck stared at her. “I’m just a vessel. A useless, good-for-nothing vessel.”

He went quiet for a few moments, then opened his mouth to say something when—

“Okay, so there might be a case here.” Dean said, stepping in front of them.

Jaime turned to him. “What did he say?”

“He didn’t see what happened, but he said his friend was pretty freaked out.” Sam told them. “We’re gonna talk to manager real quick; maybe there’s some truth to this Leticia Gore-thing they’re not telling anyone.”

Dean pointed a finger at Jaime, but she spoke before he did. “I’ll wait here.” He pulled his hand away, shaking it awkwardly as he and his brother walked off. They disappeared around a corner. Jaime and Chuck were left alone once again. “What were you gonna say?”

“What?”

“Before Sam and Dean showed up, you were gonna tell me something.” Jaime said. “What was it?”

“Oh, I, uh…” Chuck scratched the back of his head. “Maybe you’re not as useless as you think. I mean, look at me.” He gestured to himself. “I thought I was just some—some crap writer who barely had anything going for him, but… I’m a prophet who has visions about these two guys trying to save the world.” He chuckled a little, but cleared his throat when Jaime didn’t laugh. “What I’m tryin’ to say is, uh… Don’t—Don’t just give up, or say you’re useless when…when you don’t even know what you can really do, y’know?”

Jaime stared at Chuck. _What I can…really do?_ Her expression softened, and she smiled. “Thanks, Chuck.”

He grinned, letting out an airy laugh. “Hey, uh… No problem.” They sat in a much more comfortable silence. Sam and Dean came back soon after their conversation. Chuck pushed himself off the bar. “What’d the manager say?”

“It’s true.” Sam explained. “This place used to be called _‘Gore Orphanage.'_ Leticia Gore used to run it a century ago, and while she did, she butchered four boys before she killed herself.”

“Yeah, there have been sightings of her and the kids over the years.” Dean sighed. “Tonight’s the anniversary of her killing spree. Guess this place wanted authenticity.” He turned to Jaime. “We’re gonna grab some things from the car then check out the attic—that’s where she carved up the kids.”

Jaime nodded, watching them walk off. She felt eyes on her and turned to see Chuck looking at her. Her eyes widened in realization. She ran forward and grabbed the back of Dean’s jacket. “Can I come with you?”

“What? Why?”

“I wanna help.”

“Yeah, again—why?”

“You said I could.” Dean raised a brow. “Sam said, uh, if—if there was a case, you could use my help. Extra set of hands, remember, Sam?” She turned to the younger Winchester.

“She’s right, Dean; I did say that.” He admitted. Dean gave him a _‘What the hell?’_ look. “Dean, c’mon, it’s not a bad idea. It wouldn’t hurt if she learned a thing or two from this.”

“It would if she got hurt, Sam.”

“But—But I won’t; I’ll be fine.” Her hand tightened around Dean's jacket. “You won’t…let anything happen to me.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise as they stared at each other. Sam looked between them, lips pursed in interest. “Fine.” He gave in, and Jaime let out a pleased breath of air. She let go of his jacket. “Wait for us to get back from the car.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

 

The three made it to the second floor without any distractions. They found another staircase behind a small door, just like the manager had told them. Jaime went first, and Sam and Dean had a bit of trouble fitting through the door. A narrow hallway was at the top, and there was a single door that led into the attic. It didn’t open when Dean tugged on it. He suggested breaking it down, but Sam said they shouldn’t make too much noise.

Jaime noticed a crawlspace beside the door. Dean managed to push it open and entered first. Jaime went after him, and Sam was last. It was dark in the attic, but sunlight shone through the window panes at the top of the room. She squinted and could see cobwebs draped over almost everything.

Dean handed his brother and Jaime a flashlight. Sam pulled a small, rectangular device out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Jamie. It had an extendable antenna and a pair of headphones attached. “This is an EMF reader—electromagnetic frequency.” He explained. “It reads changes in air pressure, temperature drops, things like that. If a ghost is near, then it’ll—“

“I know how it works.”

Sam looked at her, surprised. “Oh… Well, I—I just thought—“

“I’m not stupid, Sam,” She said, “just a bit freaked out.”

“Hey,” Dean pointed his flashlight at her, “we did not say—“

“Can we just find this ghost, please?” She held a hand up to block the light as she moved past Dean. “This place is really creepy; I don’t wanna be in here any longer than I have to.”

Sam watched her. “…Yeah.”

Jaime turned on the EMF reader, and it lit up immediately. A lever behind a small display screen fluctuated up and down before settling in the red zone, and a soft alarm sounded. “Hey, this thing's going off.”

Dean sighed. “Great. So, we got a real ghost and a bunch of dudes—pretending to be us—pokin’ at it.”

“No way this ends well.” Sam said.

Jaime continued through the attic. She could hear Sam and Dean talking to each other, but she focused on the device in her hands. She headed towards the back, turning left and walking down an aisle of stacked boxes. Bathroom appliances were pushed up against the wall, most of them dirty and cracked. _Can we even see ghosts? How do they appear, or whatever that word is?_ The lights on the EMF reader were still blinking, and she shook it to make sure it wasn’t malfunctioning. _It hasn’t stopped since I turned it on… Is there really a ghost here, or is it just—_

“My mommy loves me.”

Jaime gasped as she turned around, shining her flashlight in a corner. A young boy sat there, his hands on top of his head. She took a step back. “Sam! Dean!”

“I said, my mommy loves me.” The boy repeated.

“I… I’m sure she does.” She swallowed, hearing heavy footfalls stop behind her. The air around her was cold, and she could see her breath coming out in puffs.

“My mommy loves me _this_ much.” The boy moved his hands, revealing a large piece of scalp missing. Bone was visible and slick with fresh blood that oozed from the wound. 

Jaime's eyes widened in fear. Her hands flew to her mouth, and the flashlight dropped to the floor. She stumbled back, falling into one of the brothers and clutching at his jacket. The boy flickered for a few seconds before he disappeared. She watched the spot, terrified.

“Jaime? Jaime, hey—you okay?” She turned and saw that she had fallen against Sam. She shook her head. “We should get out of here.”

“Yeah.” Dean agreed.

Sam helped steady Jaime, and the three of them crawled out of the attic and went back down to the lobby. Sam excused himself to make a phone call, leaving Dean and Jaime at a table near a window. Jaime was still shaken up at the sight of the ghost. Dean watched her, trying to think of something to say that could lighten the mood. He couldn’t think of anything, and instead looked at the dining area. He spotted Chuck and Becky sitting together, but Becky seemed much more interested in staring at Sam. She licked her palm and blew in Sam’s direction. Dean grimaced.

“Okay, that was a guy with the County Historical Society.” Sam said as he took a seat beside Jaime. His arm bumped against hers. “He said that, not only did Leticia Gore butcher four boys, but one of them was her own son.”

“Her son?”

“Yeah. According to the police at the time, she scalped him.”

“I’m gonna deep-fry this bitch extra crispy. Dude say where she was buried?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“Check it out.” A deep voice said from a few tables over. “There’s the orphanage, here’s the carriage house, and right there—cemetery.” Sam and Dean turned to see two men looking over an old piece of paper.

“You think that’s where Leticia’s planted?” The heavier-set one in a leather jacket asked, voice just as deep.

“It’s worth a shot.” Sam and Dean stood and walked to the other table. Jaime didn’t follow them. Sam reached out to grab the paper, but the thinner man pulled it away from him. “Hey, hey!”

“Do you mind?” The other one said.

“Can we see that?” Sam asked.

“It’s called a game, pal. This ain’t a charity.”

Dean gave them both a look, sticking his hand out. “Give us the map, Chuckles.”

“You’re the Chuckles, Chuckles. Besides,” The heavier man stood up and pulled back his jacket, revealing a plastic gun, “Dean don’t listen to nobody.”

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out his own—very real—gun. “Dean!” Sam said, holding a hand out to stop him.

“What? They’re friggin’ annoying!”

“Guys?” All four of them turned to see Jaime standing behind the Winchesters. “Hi, yeah, uh… We—We all wanna find the bones, right?” The two dressed as Sam and Dean nodded. She turned to the real Sam and Dean, nudging them a bit. They nodded. “Okay, well, why don’t you let us look over that map, and then we can look for the bones together. We’ll give it right back, and the, uh, game will go faster if we work as a team.”

The fake Sam and Dean looked at each other, then fake Dean handed her the folded up map. “Give it right back.”

She smiled as she took it, turning to the real Sam and Dean. “It helps to not be so angry all the time.” She whispered.

Both brothers rolled their eyes before they looked at the map. “It’s real.” Sam said after running a hand along the surface. “It’s gotta be a century old, at least. And, look, there’s the cemetery."

The map was snatched out of Jaime’s hands. Fake Dean folded it back up and slipped it inside his jacket. “We have a few conditions before we start this partnership.” He said.

“First,” fake Sam cleared his throat, “we get the Sizzler gift card.”

Dean rolled his eyes again. “Fine.”

“And we get to be Sam and Dean.”

“Fine.” He repeated, turning to his brother. “C’mon, let’s go get the rest of our stuff. You,” He pointed at Jaime, “wait here with them.” She nodded. She was getting used to that. Sam and Dean headed out the hotel doors.

She turned around, facing the fake Sam and the fake Dean. “So, uh… You guys got names?”

“I’m Dean, and that’s—“

“Real names.”

They fell quiet, before the heavier one spoke. “I’m Demian,” He pointed to the skinny man dressed as Sam, “and that’s Barnes.”

“I’m Jaime.” She said. “So, you—you’ve read the books?”

“ _Duh._ ” Demian said. “I can’t believe there's gonna be more.”

Barnes nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I wonder what Mr. Edlund’s come up with.”

Jaime pursed her lips in thought. “So… What’s the best way to get rid of a ghost?” They turned to her. “Uh, according to—to the books, of course.”

“Salt and burn the bones.” Demian said. “That’s, like, beginner’s stuff.”

“What about…demons?”

“Demons?”

She chewed her lip. “Those—Those are in the books, right?” Barnes nodded. “Those guys, uh, really freak me out.”

Demian scoffed. “They aren’t _that_ scary. All it took was some holy water and a couple of Latin words.”

Jaime raised a brow. “Really? Latin?”

“Did you even read the books?”

“I... I’m just getting into them.” The hotel doors opened, and Sam peered inside. He looked at Jaime and jerked his head towards the door. She turned back to Demian and Barnes. “Let’s go.”

 

“Hey, Rufus, Bobby, would you hurry up?” Demian said, turning to Sam and Dean. He glanced at Jaime. “You too, Jo—stop lagging.”

“I thought she was Ellen.” Barnes whispered.

“Uh, no. We agreed on Jo, remember?”

Jaime turned to Sam and Dean, mouthing _‘Who are they?’_ The brother’s shook their heads. Demian and Barnes argued a bit more about whether she was supposed to be playing these Ellen or Jo characters. Dean and Sam grumbled in whispered tones to each other. Jaime walked silently between each pair.

“Where were we?” Barnes asked.

“Dr. Ellicot just zapped your brain.” Demian answered.

“Right, got it.” Barnes cleared his throat and began to speak in a low tone again. “Why are we even here, Dean? You just following Dad’s footsteps, like a good little soldier? Are you _that_ desperate for his approval?”

Demian responded in his own false, low voice. “This isn’t you talking, Sam.”

Jaime looked confused and turned to the Winchesters. Dean looked at Sam, asking the unspoken question of _‘How long do we have to put up with this?’_ Sam frowned. A few more words were exchanged between Demian and Barnes, before the real Dean spoke up. “All right, you know what? That—That’s it.”

He stopped walking, and Damien and Barnes turned around. “What’s wrong, Bobby?”

“I am not Bobby, okay?” Dean shoved a finger at Barnes, “You’re not Sam,” then at Demian, “you’re not Dean.” They looked taken aback by his accusations. “What is wrong with you two? Why in the hell would you choose to be these guys?”

“Because we’re fans, like you.”

“No, no—I am not a _fan,_ okay?” Dean pointed at Sam, then at himself. “Not fans. In fact, I think that the _‘Sam and Dean’_ story sucks. It is not fun, it is not entertaining, it is a river of crap that would send most people _howling_ to the nut house! Their pain is not for your amusement. Do you think they enjoy being treated like—like circus freaks?”

“Uh, I don’t think they care because they’re _fictional characters._ ”

“Oh, they care.” Dean said. “Believe me, they care a lot.” He stormed past the two men, continuing down the narrow walkway.

They watched him as he went, then turned to Sam and Jaime. “He, uh… He takes the story pretty seriously.” Sam said, going after his brother. Jaime stared at Demian and Barnes, then ran down the pavement after Sam. They quickly caught up with Dean.

“Dean, are you okay?”

“No.” He said shortly, shifting the bag on his shoulder to block her from his view.

She didn’t pry further, slowing her pace to put distance between her and Dean. Sam gave her an apologetic look as he continued after his brother. They eventually reached the graveyard and turned on their flashlights, searching the headstones.

After a while, Dean’s voice echoed, “I found the four boys.”

“And here’s Leticia Gore.” Sam said from the opposite side of the graveyard.

Demian and Barnes were still searching, flashlights aimed at the ground. “What are you guys doing?” Dean asked.

“Lookin’ for bones, genius.” Demian said, his fake voice returning. “They gotta be around here somewhere.”

“Well, generally,” Dean started, dropping his duffel bag, “bones are in the ground.”

“Yeah, I know that, I just…” Demian trailed off when he saw Sam pull a shovel out from his own bag.

Jaime shone the flashlight on them, eyes widening with realization. “Seriously?”

“Deadly.” Dean said.

“We’re—We’re not seriously digging up graves, you guys.” Barnes stuttered out. “We’re just playing a game.”

“Trust us.” Dean smiled. “You wanna win the game, right?”

Demian and Barnes nodded hesitantly. Dean’s smile faded as he walked over to Leticia’s grave and started to dig. Jaime watched in astonishment as Sam helped him dig up an actual grave. “C’mon, kid, keep the light up.” Dean said. Jaime apologized as she steadied the flashlight. They dug deeper into the hole, and after a while, their shovels hit something solid. Wind rustled the trees, and Jaime looked around the graveyard. _What was that?_ She heard the creaking of wood and turned back to the grave when Demian and Barnes gasped.

“That’s, uh, not a plastic skeleton. That’s a _skeleton-_ skeleton.”

“You just dug up a real grave.”

99Demian turned to Sam. “You guys are nuts.”

There was an amused smile on the younger Winchester’s face. “I thought you guys said you wanted to be hunters.”

“Hunters aren’t real, man!” Demian said, turning and walking back to the hotel. “This isn’t real.”

“You guys have _seriously_ lost your grip on this—“ Barnes suddenly stopped as he turned to Sam, face paling. 

Jaime turned to see what they were staring at, and her mouth fell open. A woman dressed in old clothes, wearing a scowl on her face, stood behind Sam. “Sam, look out!”

He spun around just as the woman raised an arm, sending him flying across the graveyard. “Naughty! Naughty! Naughty!” He fell hard against the ground, unconscious. Demian and Barnes took off running. Dean climbed out of the grave and ran towards his brother. The ghost appeared in front of him and tossed him away, just as she had with Sam. Jamie panicked, and she crouched over one of the duffel bags. She dug through it, finding salt, matches, and a container of lighter fluid. She turned around and saw the ghost standing in front of Demian and Barnes. “Naughty! Naughty! Naughty!”

Jaime tore the top off the salt container, dumping it over the bones, and squeezed the lighter fluid into the grave. She threw both containers aside, and her fingers twitched as she pulled out the matches. Demian and Barnes screamed. Her hands shook as the matches finally caught fire, and she threw them into the grave. She fell back as the bones burst into flames. She turned to see the ghost woman scream as she erupted into a fiery haze and disappeared.

 _That was… Was that Leticia Gore?_ She looked back down at the flaming bones. _I just burned someone’s bones. I just helped desecrate a grave._ “Oh, my God…”

“Jaime?” She jumped when Dean’s voice came from beside her. “Hey, you okay?” She shook her head. Demian and Barnes stared at the blazing fire, horrified.

 

Demian and Barnes had ran back to the hotel while Sam and Dean shoveled dirt over the charred bones. Jaime sat beside the grave, flashlight shining on them. They had walked back to the hotel in silence, and she kept her head down. They entered the lobby and glanced over at the bar, seeing Demian and Barnes drinking.

Demian reached for his shot glass, and drank it in one swig. Barnes swished around whatever was left in his beer bottle. “That was…really—“

“—Awful, right?” Dean interrupted, startling them. “Round’s on us, guys.” He slapped a folded up bill on the bar between them.

“See you around.” Sam said, and they turned to leave.

“Wait.” Demian stopped them. “How’d you know how to do all that?”

Sam and Dean looked down at Jaime, silently asking her the same question. “Uh… It—It’s in the books…remember?” She said, looking up at Sam, praying he’d catch on.

He did. “Oh, yeah. We, uh… We read the books.” He lied.

They turned away and continued towards the doors. They passed Chuck and the convention manager on their way, and Dean stopped. “Hey, Chuck. Good luck with the _Supernatural_ books, and screw you very much.” Chuck swallowed.

Jaime watched the convention manager say something to Chuck. He answered, then looked at her. He smiled and raised a hand, waving at her. She smiled as she waved back, following Sam and Dean to the doors. Her smiled faded when she noticed them struggling. “What’s going on?”

“The doors won’t open.”

“What?”

“Yeah, definitely weird.” Sam said. “Check the windows.”

She headed towards the windows at the other side of the lobby. She pulled, but they didn’t budge. She tried a few more—all with the same result—before moving to the second floor. She tugged at the windows there, but nothing happened. They regrouped upstairs. “Anything?”

Sam shook his head. “Every exit’s locked, almost like—“

“—Something’s keeping us in.” Dean finished.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Gee, you think?”

A scream interrupted them, and they hurried towards the source. A young woman, dressed as Leticia Gore, ran out of a room filled with books. She stared into the room with frightened eyes and fell back into Dean’s arms. She looked up at him, shaking her head. “Don’t go in there!”

“Get downstairs, okay?” He told her. She nodded and ran off.

The three entered the room, moving cautiously. In a far corner, hidden behind a plant decoration, was the boy Jaime had seen in the attic. His hands still clutched at his head. “Why did you do that?” He asked. “Why did you send my mommy away?”

“Uh, maybe because of the high-and-tight she gave you? How ‘bout a little thanks, hm?” Dean said, sounding a bit ticked off. Sam cleared his throat in warning. “What, I’m just saying a little gratitude would be nice once in a while."

“My mommy didn’t do this to me.”

 _What?_ “Then, who did?” Jaime asked. The boy turned to her, then flickered and disappeared. She turned to Sam and Dean. “Did I burn the wrong body?”

A loud scream startled them, and they raced out of the library and down a hallway. They stopped when they saw a body, lifeless and bloody, on the floor. Jaime could see that part of the man’s scalp was missing.

“Come on.” Dean said, heading down the stairs to the lobby. He peered into the auditorium and saw Chuck, speaking to a large crowd of people like he had yesterday. “Sam, go talk to Chuck.” He said, then looked at Jaime. “You, go with him.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna go round up the staff.” He explained. “We need to get them somewhere safe. That room is all we’ve got.” Dean pointed a finger at the auditorium. Jaime nodded and followed Sam.

“Well, I guess we’re out of time, so… Thank-you for your _incredibly_ probing and rigorous questions, and have a good—“ Chuck stopped when Sam ran up the stage and whispered into his ear. “ _What!?_ Holy crap!” Sam covered the microphone. The audience watched the exchange, confused.

Jaime stood at the back of the room as the two spoke quietly on stage. At one point, Sam glanced out at the audience before turning back to Chuck. The auditorium doors opened behind her, and Dean walked in with the hotel staff.

“Buddy, I got work to do.” The hotel manager said.

“You’re gonna wanna see this, trust me.” Dean told him. “It’s gonna be a hell of a show.” When the last person was inside, Dean closed the doors. Sam was at Jaime’s side, handing her a jar of salt, and pointed to the bottom of the door. She watched him lay a line down around the edge of the room, and she did the same underneath the double doors.

Chuck began talking to the crowd again, but Jaime didn’t listen as she emptied the salt container. She turned around as she finished to regroup with Sam and Dean. “Okay,” Dean said, “the legends about Leticia are obviously ass-backwards. What’s our new theory?”

“Okay, so, let’s say those three boys were playing cowboys and Indians.” Sam speculated.

“ _LARPing_ as cowboys and Indians.” Dean added jokingly.

“Whatever. So, they catch Gore’s son and scalp him.

“Mom catches them, flips out, kills ‘em then offs herself.”

“Which means we’ve got three bloodthirsty brats on the loose, and a bunch of people walking around who think it’s all a game.”

“Leticia was the only one holding them back.” Jaime realized.

“We gotta get back to the cemetery and torch the kids’ bones.”

“How?” She asked. “We’re trapped in here without any weapons, and the only thing the kids are scared of burnt to a crisp!”

Dean noticed something over her shoulder, and his eyes lit up. “That’s it.”

“What is?” He moved past Jaime without answering her. “Dean?”

“Stay here.” He told her. “I have a plan, but you need to stay here and help Chuck, okay? Don’t let anyone leave.” After a beat, she nodded. “C’mon, Sam.”

Jaime turned to the stage. Chuck was obviously nervous as he continued talking to the crowd. The hotel staff already looked bored out of their minds, and a few of the convention guests seemed like they were losing interest, as well. Jaime glanced back at Sam and Dean. Demian and Barnes were with them, as well as the woman dressed as Leticia Gore. They spoke for a bit longer before heading out the auditorium doors. The doors shut with a loud _bang,_ and Jaime moved to pour more salt at the bottom of the wood.

 

Jaime had taken a seat in the back row of auditorium. It had been a little over ten minutes since Sam and Dean left with the other three. Almost the entire crowd had lost interest in whatever Chuck had been talking about for the past four minutes. She had no idea what was happening outside—if Sam and Dean had managed to stop the ghosts, if Demian and Barnes were still alive, if their plan had worked in any way.

“…for the first time at sixteen. Lost my virginity, actually.” Jaime looked towards the stage. Chuck was looking up at the ceiling, reminiscing. “But, then she went around telling everybody it didn’t count, so…” The hotel manager stood and headed for the doors. Chuck jumped to his feet. “E—Excuse me! Uh, you—you can’t leave!”

The manager rolled his eyes, ignoring Chuck. Jaime rushed to put herself between him and the doors. “Please, sir, just a—a few more minutes.”

“I don’t think so.” He pushed past her and gripped the door handle.

“Don’t open that door!” Chuck shouted.

He pushed down on the handle and pulled one of the doors open. Jaime watched as the line of salt was broken. Almost immediately, a young boy flickered in front of him. The manager jumped away from the door, and scattered gasps came from the audience. The boy brandished a knife, a sadistic grin on his face.

“Get back!” Jaime called out, grabbing the man’s arm and trying to pull him away. The boy stepped closer, raising the knife. Chuck raced forward, gripping the microphone stand in his hands and slicing upwards at the ghost. He disappeared, a few sparking embers in his place, and the prophet slammed the door shut.

“I said nobody leaves, damn it!” He turned to Jaime. “Salt the door!”

She nodded, grabbing another container of salt. She poured a new line over the ruined one. Chuck ran back to the stage, grabbing the microphone from off the floor. “All right, everybody listen up!” He shouted. “There’s some pretty messed up stuff going on outside, so I mean it when I say you all need to stay put!” Murmurs ran through the crowd before people began to sit back down. The hotel manager returned to his seat, visibly shaken.

Jaime stayed pressed up against the door. Chuck’s hands tightened around the microphone as the last few guests took their seats. He glanced over to her, brows knit in worry, but she gave him a small thumbs-up. Her eyes moved over the people in the room. _These people shouldn’t be involved in this kind of crap… They shouldn’t have to live knowing monsters and ghosts exist…_

She was suddenly pushed forward as someone—or something—tried to open the doors. She struggled to push back, hearing people gasp behind her. “Whoa, whoa, hey, it’s us!” The voice on the other side said. “Let us in!”

“Dean! Sam!” She threw the doors open. The brothers stood there, sweaty and panting, with their hands clenched around iron crowbars. “Are you guys okay?” She glanced past them. “What about the ghosts? Are they—“

“They’re gone.”

She let out a sigh of relief, stumbling back and falling in one of the chairs. “Oh, thank God.” She ran her hands through her hair, pressing her palms against her forehead. “I didn’t know if you guys would come back or not.” Sam chuckled. Dean said something about not being an amateur. Chuck spoke into the microphone, telling everyone that it was all under control and they were now allowed to leave the room.

“Hey.” Her eyes snapped open, and she lifted her head to see Sam standing over her. “It’s pretty late, so we’re just gonna get a room here. We’ll head out in the morning.”

She nodded and followed him to the front desk. Dean was already there, paying for a room and taking the key when the man at desk handed it to him. The brothers limped up the stairs and leaned against the wall as Jaime opened the door. Dean claimed the closest bed by collapsing on top of it. His feet hung off the edge as his face pressed into the pillow, and he fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

Jaime looked at the other bed in the room, then at Sam. He stared at her, swallowing and fidgeting. “I, uh… I can sleep on the floor.”

She watched him head for the closet to search for any spare sheets or pillows. She looked at the bed again. “Uh, no—no, it’s… It’s okay, Sam. You, uh… You’ve been sleeping on couches, so…” Jaime took a deep breath. “We can share.”

Sam’s eyes widened a bit. “Are… You sure? ‘Cause, I mean, I don’t mind if—“

“No, Sam, it’s cool.” Jaime moved to sit on the bed. “Let’s just get some sleep.”

He smiled. “Yeah, okay.”

Jaime turned and looked at Dean as she undressed. She took off her grey-green coat and the flannel Sam had given her earlier that morning. She unlaced her hunting boots and slipped out of them. She stayed in her black shirt and jeans, and turned around to face Sam. He had shed about the same amount as her, also in a dark shirt and jeans.

“So, uh…” He said, sitting on the bed. “I guess…goodnight, Jaime.”

“Goodnight, Sam.” She moved underneath the bedsheets, keeping her back to him. She watched Dean’s sleeping face as she felt Sam move under the sheets, as well. He shifted a little, and she could feel the warmth radiating from his back when he settled. She sighed, closing her eyes and drifting off.

 

**JAN. 27, 2010**

The sound of emergency sirens woke them up the next morning. The digital clock on the nightstand read _9:14 a.m.,_ and they quickly got dressed.

Dean smirked when he saw Jaime and Sam sharing a bed. “Does this mean you like him more than me?” He commented with a joking smile. Jaime pursed her lips and shrugged. “Wait, do you?” She didn’t answer him as she put her boots on. Sam laughed a bit.

They gave their room key back to the front desk and made their way outside. A group of paramedics walked by, carrying a gurney with a dark tarp draped across it. “Looks like someone found that guy’s body.” Sam said. 

Jaime watched as they loaded the body into the back of the ambulance. By the time the doors shut, she was alone on the hotel front steps. She looked around and spotted Dean talking to Demian and Barnes. She walked over to them, and they started to laugh at something Dean said. He just smiled at them.

“Well, anyway, thanks.” He said. He noticed Jaime coming down the walkway, and he nodded at the two before he moved past them to join her.

“You’re wrong, you know.” Demian said.

“Sorry?”

“About _Supernatural._ ” He held up a hand when an odd look crossed Dean’s face. “No offense, but I’m not sure you get what the story’s about.”

“Is that so?”

“Look, in real life,” He pointed at Barnes, “he sells stereo equipment, I fix copiers. _Our_ lives suck. But, to wake up every morning and save the world, to have a brother who would die for you? Who _wouldn’t_ want that?”

Jaime frowned as he spoke. _Who would want that? Being in danger every day, fighting and not knowing if you’ll live to see tomorrow—that sounds like it sucks._ She looked at the ground. _But saving the world? Keeping people safe, making sure they’re alive to see the next day…_ Jaime thought back to last night. _That hotel manager… He’s alive because Chuck stopped that ghost. He isn’t a hunter like Sam and Dean, but if he can do it, then… Then I can, too._

Dean was suddenly elbowing her arm, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Go find Sam.” She frowned at his strange smile. She looked at Demian and Barnes. They were holding hands, and Barnes’ head rested on Demian’s shoulder. She turned back to Dean. His smile was gone. “ _Now,_ please.”

A small smirk grew on her face as she walked away. She continued down the walkway, towards the parking lot, and found Sam. Chuck and Becky were with him, standing close together. There was a serious look on Sam’s face, and he nodded briskly before he turned away from them. Becky giggled as she waved.

Chuck noticed Jaime heading their way. “Hey, Jaime.”

“Hey, Chuck.”

“Thanks for helpin’ out back there.”

She shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat. “I, uh… I think I’m gonna get better.” She looked down at the ground as she continued. “I mean, yeah, I helped you and Sam and Dean, but that was… I figured, if you can do it, if those two guys can do it…” She gestured to Demian and Barnes. “Hell, if Sam and Dean can keep doing it _every day,_ then so can I. I can help, I can be strong…I can be useful.” She looked back at the prophet. “So… I wanted to say thanks for lecturing me.”

“Hey,” He leaned forward, patting her arm, “anytime.”

Jaime looked at Becky, who wasn’t giving her as nasty a stare as before. “Seeya, Becky.” She said. Becky nodded, stepping closer to Chuck. Jaime headed towards the parking lot. She found Sam and Dean standing at the Impala, talking amongst each other. Sam noticed her walking up and nodded at his brother. Dean turned around. “Hey, kid.” He smiled. “Ready to hit the road?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” She opened the door and slid in behind the passenger’s seat. Dean turned the key and the engine roared to life. He backed out of the hotel parking lot, and Jaime pressed her hand against her mouth as she stared at the receeding building.

“Hey, kid?”

Jaime faced the front. Dean was looking at her from the rear view mirror. “What’s up?”

“I, uh, wanted to say thanks for helping me and Sam back there.” He explained. “At the graveyard, and with Chuck last night.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, smiling at her, “thanks, Jaime.”

Her eyes widened a bit. Dean looked back to the road, and Sam faced forward. She was quiet for a moment, then smiled. “You’re welcome, you guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man oh man did this one take forever!!!  
> i originally didn't write for this episode (5x09) but then i realized (after some v important events near the end of s11) that it would be good for jaime to interact with a certain somone, as well as making her not as big of a wuss as she's been. a decent character development chapter, imo  
> so far, this is my longest chapter!!! 36 pages at 11129 words!!! why can't i be this dedicated to my schoolwork and not my fanfiction...  
> anyway!! more familiar faces will show up next chapter, and there will also be character death which means crying. and boy do i love making characters cry 8)  
> title is a song called I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers


	5. Night Before The Dark

**SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA — JAN. 29, 2010**

Jaime tugged at her coat as she walked the dirt path up to a house with faded, blue paint. Sam and Dean were in front of her, duffels bags heavy with weapons and clothes. 

During the drive, they had told her about the man they were going to see—Bobby. Sam said he was a good man and an experienced hunter. Dean agreed, and he told her about the two women that would be there—Ellen and Jo, a mother and her daughter, and two capable hunters, as well. Bobby had been a hunter for as long as they could remember, and Ellen and Jo had helped Sam and Dean in the past and were ready to do it again.

Jaime chewed her lip as she stood behind Sam and Dean, staring down at her boots. “Hey.” She looked up. Sam smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. We’ll tell them who you are, and—and that you’re here to help.” Dean didn’t say anything as he knocked against the door.

“Hold on, I’m comin’!” A gruff voice came from inside the house, and the door opened seconds after. A man with a beard and a worn baseball cap looked up at Sam and Dean.

Jaime raised a brow. _A hunter in a wheelchair?_ She realized she wasn’t in a position to judge. Looks could be deceiving.

“’Bout time you fellas got here.” The man said, moving the wheelchair so they could step inside.

“It’s good to see you, Bobby.” Dean said.

The man muttered, “It’s good to see you, too, boys,” then wheeled out of sight. Sam and Dean entered, and she stood outside for a moment before following them. She walked into a small kitchen and saw a large living room to her left. Books were stacked on top of every available surface. Jaime noticed a dagger on a file cabinet and a shotgun on the desk near the back of the room. She leaned against the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room, observing.

Two women spoke to Sam and Dean. The older one with brown hair—Ellen—pulled them in for a tight hug. The younger one with blonde hair—Jo—smiled at them from her spot under a large window. Jaime played with the hem of her coat again. _These people are hunters… They know what they’re doing._ She chewed her lip again. The skin felt raw. _Can I help them? Do they even need me? Maybe I’d… I’d just be a burden—_

“Jaime.”

She spun around and saw Castiel staring at her. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to still her heartbeat. “What are you doing here?”

“Sam and Dean told me to meet them here.” He said in a flat voice. Jaime frowned. She didn’t know they had told him that. “I found the Colt.”

It had become quiet in the house. Jaime looked away from the angel to see the five hunters staring at her. She swallowed as Castiel stepped up beside her.

“So, who’s this?” Ellen said. She took a few steps towards Jaime, arms crossed over her chest.

“This is Jaime.” Sam said, moving past Ellen and holding an arm out for Jaime to join him. She did. He pressed a hand against her back, pushing her forward. "We’re…kind of looking after her.”

Jo scoffed a bit. “Aren’t you two a little old to be stuck babysitting?"

“That’s what I said!” Dean said, arms spread wide. Jaime glanced over at him, frowning. Castiel moved past her and Sam.

“So, what’s so special that you three are takin’ care of her?” Bobby asked. He looked skeptical, and Jaime didn’t blame him.

“She’s the vessel of God.”

“What?” Bobby, Ellen, and Jo turned to look at Castiel.

“Yes.” He answered.

“That’s a bit out there, don’t you think?” Bobby said as he looked at Jaime.

“I understand, but it’s the truth.”

“So, what, God’s here to stop the apocalypse?” Jo asked. “How come He hasn’t done it yet? Can’t He just, snap His fingers and call the whole thing off?” She snapped for emphasis.

“From what I’ve gathered, He can’t do much without the vessel’s complete consent and surrender.” Castiel stared at Jaime as he spoke. She frowned at him, not appreciating the title ‘the vessel.’ “He hasn’t told me what His intentions are, but I believe He will help in stopping the apocalypse.”

Jaime looked away from Castiel. Sam’s hand moved up her back in a comforting gesture. “You okay?” He whispered. She shook her head. “Hey, don’t worry. They’re just…skeptical.” She didn’t say anything.

“So, what you’re sayin’ is that we’ve got the most powerful being in existence on our side, but He can’t do squat unless she gives Him the say-so?” Bobby turned to face Jaime. His tone was tactless, but she supposed he didn’t care at the moment. She glanced around the room and shrunk under the eyes that were on her.

Castiel nodded. “Correct.”

“Well, that’s great.” Jo said, letting her hands fall to her sides. “Guess we gotta figure out how to do things the hard way, like always.”

“Jo.” Ellen said, voice strict.

Jaime looked away from everyone, eyes downcast. _…They’re right. I’m useless. I can’t help them; I can’t even help myself. Just a burden they’d be better off—_ She flinched when a pair of boots came into view, and she lifted her head to see Ellen standing in front of her.

“How do you feel about all this, hon?”

Jaime glanced at each person in the room before looking back to Ellen. “I…” She took a breath. “I wanted to go home at first, but now… I wanna help, in any way I can.”

Ellen chuckled and pressed a hand on shoulder. “Well, welcome to the team, sweetheart. We’ll take all the help we can get.” Jaime smiled. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, actually.” She glanced at Dean. “We didn’t get anything on the way here.”

Dean threw his arms up. “Really, Jaime? You’re gonna throw me under the bus like that?”

The living room filled with amused chuckling, and Jaime smiled at the dissolving tension. Ellen led Jaime into the kitchen. “C’mon, let’s go see what kinda crap Bobby’s got in his fridge.”

 

Jaime sat with Ellen at the kitchen table. She chewed on a cold turkey sandwich while the hunter joined in the conversation going on in the living room. Castiel told them the Colt was in the possession of a crossroads demon named Crowley. He had followed the demon to his mansion, but couldn’t get in due to the angel-repelling sigils drawn on the outside. The hunters and the angel had spent the past half-hour trying to think of ways inside, but hadn’t come up with anything.

After another fifteen minutes of dead-end thinking, the conversation topic had switched. Dean and Sam headed outside. Ellen and Jo helped Bobby flip through some of the many books he had. Castiel moved to stand beside Jaime.

“Hello, Jaime.” He said, a bit apprehensive.

Her eyes followed him as he sat across from her. “Hey, Castiel.”

They sat silently for a moment. “It has…been some time since I’ve last seen you.” He said. His eyes were on the wall in front of him.

“Yeah.”

“Are… Are you well?”

“Well, I’m not dead.”

“Jaime, I told you,” He faced her, and she jumped at the movement, “you won’t die, so long as you’re with us. Please, believe—“

“No, Castiel, that was—I was just joking. Sort of.” He narrowed his eyes. She sighed. “Nevermind, I’m fine.” Blue eyes watched her, and she tapped her fingers on the table before she stood. “I, uh… I’ll be right back.” She could feel his eyes on her back as she turned into the living room and headed up the stairs. 

She peeked into a room—a bedroom—then into another one—a bathroom. She entered the latter, shut the door, and gripped the sides of the sink as she let out a deep breath. She looked into the mirror over the sink and hazel eyes stared back at her. Her short red hair stuck up from days of not being brushed down. The red flannel Sam had given her looked dirty, and the black shirt underneath was stained along the stomach. Her grey-green coat must have looked even worse, and she frowned at her grimy clothes.

A knock on the bathroom door startled her. Her hands clenched around the porcelain. “Yeah?” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head before.

“Jaime?” It was Dean.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“…Sam and I need to talk to you.” He said. Something sounded _off_ about his tone. “Meet us outside, okay?”

She nodded, as if he could see her. “Sure. Give me a sec.”

“Okay.” Heavy footsteps moved away from the door.

Jaime looked at the mirror—at herself—and sighed. She ran her hands through her hair and rubbed at her eyes, trying to get rid of the over-fatigued look she had. She opened the bathroom door and went back downstairs. Castiel was still sitting at the kitchen table, and Bobby was reading a book in his lap. Ellen and Jo were both nursing beers in the living room.

She headed for the door, but Castiel’s voice stopped her. “Where are you going?”

Her hand hovered over the handle as she said, “Outside. Sam and Dean wanna talk,” then pushed the door open. She weaved through the cars around Bobby’s house and spotted Sam and Dean leaning against the Impala. Their backs were to her, and as she got closer, she begin to hear their conversation.

“Do you think he was telling the truth?”

“I don’t know.”

“Chuck’s visions haven’t been wrong, Dean. But, he—he hadn’t seen her, he didn’t even know about her until we told him. That’s gotta mean something.” She saw Dean sigh. “Look, maybe… Maybe Jaime’s the real deal. Maybe Cas is right, and she can stop—“

“She can’t hold a gun without shaking, Sam.” Dean said harshly. “Cas thinks she can help stop the end of the world, but she can’t even use whatever kind of mojo she’s got. I’m not putting money on that horse.”

“Dean—“

“What did you wanna talk about?” The boys turned around suddenly. Jaime stood on the other side of the Impala, hands at her sides. Their eyes were wide, knowing they had been caught. She didn’t say anything about the discussion they were having. “Are you gonna tell me, or should I just head back inside?”

The brothers looked at each other, as if debating who should speak. Sam stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Did you, uh… Did you hear what—“

“Can you just tell me what you want?”

“We want your help getting the Colt from Crowley.” Dean said. Her eyes widened.

“We know you’re not as,” Sam paused, trying to think of the right word, “ _experienced_ as the rest of us, but with Cas out of commission, we’re gonna need all the help we can get if we wanna pull this off.”

Dean moved around the Impala to stand closer to her. “We were thinking you’d come with us, help take this dick by surprise.”

“…Are you serious?”

“Look, we know it sounds ridiculous, but we think you can—“

“No, I… I do want to help you, Sam, but I just…” She stuttered out, running a hand through her hair. She hadn’t expected them to suggest walking into the fire with them. “What good can come of me goin’ into a building full of demons who want the vessel of God dead? I—I don’t even think I can handle facing a demon again. I mean, I haven’t been able to even—to even sleep properly, after what happened with Shannon! How—How am I supposed to protect myself, I barely know how to use a gun!”

“We think they’ll be afraid of you.”

Jaime turned to Dean. “What?”

“The demon who found you—Shannon—said she knew who you were, right? She said she could… _smell_ God on you?” Jaime frowned, not too fond of the memory, but nodded. “Well, if she could, then other demons probably can, too. If they know you’re God’s vessel, they might be too afraid to fight back—chicken out without really knowing anything.”

“So, you want me to put on a game face and charge in there headfirst?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. That’s exactly what we want you to do, kid.”

Jaime leaned against the side of the Impala. She held the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “It's not ridiculous; it’s _freakin’ insane._ ” She frowned at the brothers.

“Jaime, please, just…” Sam trailed off as she pushed away from the car. She paced back and forth, gently tugging on her hair. Sam glanced at Dean, giving him a _‘Dude, what now?’_ look.

Dean sighed. “Look, kid, you don’t have to come, we just thought that—“

“No!” She turned to them, hands up in front of her. She blinked, realized she had shouted, and lowered her hands. “I—I mean, uh… I’ll… I’ll do it.”

“You will?” Sam and Dean said together.

She nodded. “Yeah, I will. I wanna help you guys, I… I wanna be useful.”

It went quiet again before one of the brothers stepped forward. Jaime looked up as Dean placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. “You’re plenty useful, kid.”

 _Teach me how to use a gun before you regret saying that._ She smiled at him. “Thanks, Dean.”

 

“That’s not happening.”

“Cas, c’mon!” Dean said. When the three came back to the house, Castiel walked up to them and said no. He explained that he had been listening to their conversation—which perplexed Jaime—and was wholly against the idea of her entering a mansion filled with demons. “You can’t get in—the whole place is warded! She can, and they might be too scared to come near her!”

“ _’Might be’_ is too much of a risk, Dean. I’m not letting her leave.”

“Damn it!” Dean slammed a hand against the kitchen counter, frustrated.

Jaime watched Dean, before she stepped forward. “Castiel, let me go.” His blue eyes shot to her. “I want to help.”

“I’m not letting you risk your life.”

“You aren’t.” She crossed her arms. “It’s _my_ choice—not yours—and I choose to go with them. You don’t control me.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ll be with Sam and Dean—I’ll be safe.”

“The last time you thought you were safe—“

“—Was my fault. _I’m_ the one who ran off, _I’m_ the one who didn't know how to deal with one demon.” She said. “Sam and Dean know what they’re doing, they can handle it. And if the demons are afraid of me, I’ll be fine!”

Castiel turned to Sam and Dean. “You swear no harm will come to her?”

“We swear.”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

He turned back to Jaime. “If you… If you get hurt, or—or worse, then God—“

“I won’t get hurt, Castiel, I promise.”

Blue stared into hazel for a moment longer, before he nodded. “Fine.”

Jaime smiled. "Don’t wprry, I'll be fine. Jeez, you’re like an overprotective dad on his daughter’s prom night.”

Sam and Dean chuckled. Castiel tilted his head, confused.

 

**JAN. 30, 2010**

A young woman in a black dress approached the mansion’s front gate, shivering from the 7° cold. She pressed a button on the intercom, holding her arms tight to her sides.

“Hello?” A voice said.

“Yes, hello?” She answered. “My car broke down, I—I need some help.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.” The voice said back.

The intercom buzzed, and the woman turned away from the gate. Jo crossed her arms as she waited. Two men walked down the long driveway, and the gate creaked open.

“Evening, pretty lady.” One of them said, looking her up and down. “Why don’t you come in?”

Jo smiled. “I just…need to make a call.”

“Oh, you don’t need to call anyone, baby.” He said. “We’re the only help you’re ever gonna need.”

“You know what, I—I think I should wait by my car.”

She turned to walk away from the building, but a large hand gripped her shoulder. The man’s eyes went black, and his tone was dangerous. “We said, get your ass in here.”

In a flash of movements, Jo slapped his hand away and thrust her elbow back into his neck. There was a crack, and he cried out as he fell to the ground. The other man moved towards her, but stopped when a knife plunged through his neck. A dim-orange glow flickered from inside of him, and he collapsed. Sam tore the demon-killing knife away and ran to the man Jo attacked, stabbing him in the back. The man cried out again before he stilled against the concrete.

“Nice work, Jo.” Dean said, handing her a bag. Jaime followed behind him. She looked down at the bodies—the demons—Sam had killed and shuddered.

Jo pulled out a pair of wire cutters from the bag. “Shall we?” She disappeared along the side of the mansion.

Dean, Sam, and Jaime headed for the front entrance and waited. The power suddenly went out, and Dean pushed open the doors and the three rushed inside. They were immediately met with demons, some who brandished their own weapons. Jaime swallowed, gripping the gun in her hands tight as the demons’ black eyes focused onto her. One of them opened his mouth in disbelief.

“It’s her…” He muttered to the other. “It’s the vessel.” They stared at her, and she took a step back.

One of them growled and lunged for her. She raised her gun and fired. The bullet went through the demon’s shoulder, but he didn’t stop. Sam stepped in front of her and thrust the knife into the demon’s chest. Dean ran forward, smashing the butt of his shotgun into a few faces. He and Sam tossed their weapons to each other, and Dean stabbed at the demons around him.

Two of them slipped past the brothers and charged for Jaime. She backed up, gritting her teeth and firing again. One of them was hit above eyebrows, and he let out a pained cry as he fell. The other grunted as the bullet went through his arm. He continued forward, and Jaime fired four more times before Dean plunged the knife into his back. The demon flickered orange before he crumpled to the floor. Dean moved over to the one she had shot in the head and stabbed it in the back, as well.

Jaime panted softly as she looked up at Sam and Dean. They watched her for a moment, then Dean nodded. “Nice job, kid.” Sam smirked at her.

“I, uh…” Jaime looked at the pistol. “Thanks.”

“Couple hours of training goes a long way, doesn’t it?” Dean said, then murmured to Sam, “And Cas wanted her to stay behind.”

They were on alert as they continued through the mansion, but didn’t run into any other demons. They headed upstairs, then down a long hallway. They stopped as they neared the end of the hall. Dean pulled a large marker out of his jacket and dropped to the ground, flipping over one of the rugs. He drew a sigil on the back, before he moved the rug back to its original position. They took a step back as the door at the end of the hall opened, and a figure stepped out.

“It’s Crowley, right?” Sam said. Jaime squinted to see in the dark.

A shorter man stood across from them, hands in the pockets of his black suit. “So, the Hardy boys finally found me.” He had an accent. “Took you long enough.” He glanced at Jaime, but didn’t say anything as he stepped forward. He stopped and looked down at the rug. They followed his gaze, and noticed the rumple on one of the corners. Crowley leaned down and flipped the rug over, exposing the sigil underneath.

“Do you have any idea how much this rug cost?” The demon said, standing and pointing at the fabric.

Jaime's arms were suddenly yanked behind her back, and a hand slapped over her mouth before she could scream. The demon holding her grinned, black eyes glistening, as she jerked in his hold, voice muffled against his hand. She looked to see Sam and Dean being disarmed and grabbed by two demons. They struggled but were unable to break free.

“You’re the vessel?” The demon whispered into her ear. She shivered. “You’re just some human—weak, useless, pathetic."

The click of a gun caught her attention. She looked at Crowley and saw him holding something. The Colt. He paced slowly, turning the weapon over before pointing it at Dean. She yelled into the demon’s hand, pleaded for Crowley not to shoot. She winced as he fired three times, turning away and awaiting the bullet. Instead, the strong hold on her went slack. She opened her eyes as the demon restraining her—as well as the ones that held Sam and Dean—collapsed to the ground. There was a smoking hole in each of their heads. Jaime turned to the brothers, sharing a glance with them before turning to Crowley.

“We need to talk. Privately.” He said, turning to the room he had came from.

The three cautiously picked up their weapons and followed him. The room was large, with a desk near the center, andbthe door behind them shut with a wave of Crowley's hand.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of the infamous Winchesters,” His eyes fell to Jaime, “and the new piece on the board?”

“First off, you wanna explain what the hell that was?” Dean gestured to the door, referring to the demons Crowley shot.

He ignored the hunter and held up the Colt. “This is what you’re here for, isn’t it?” He looked it over, as if admiring it. Then he pointed it at Jaime.

She froze. Sam and Dean stepped forward. “Hey—“

“I wouldn’t take another step, cowboy.” Crowley said, glancing at Dean. “Not unless you’d like to see this one’s pretty brain splattered all over the floor.” Dean tensed, but he shot a look at Sam and they backed off. Crowley smirked as he looked at Jaime. “What’s your name, girl?”

She glanced at Sam and Dean, who continued to watch the demon closely. Movement in front of her made her attention snap forward. Crowley had stepped closer. “Jaime.”

“Hm. Jaime.” He repeated. His voice made her shiver unpleasantly. “Are you really the vessel of _Mister High-and-Mighty?_ ” He asked, then chuckled. “What am I talking about, of course you are. I can smell Him all over you.” He looked her up and down. “Seems like an awfully big burden for someone like you. I bet you had no idea what you’d be getting mixed up in, huh? You know, I could probably just end it right now. Put you out of your misery, and all the misery that’s sure to come.”

The gun clicked. “You son of a—“

“The big kids are talking, Dean.” Crowley warned. He noticed her looking down the barrel of the Colt, and he smirked. “Fantastic weapon, isn’t it? I pull the trigger, and you, along with the big-wig Himself, die. The whole world could fall apart. Sounds lovely, don’t it?” 

Jaime remained silent.

Crowley watched her a bit longer. “Don’t worry. I’ve no interest in killing you. Waste of a bullet, if you ask me.” He lowered the gun. Jaime felt her stomach lurch in relief as Sam and Dean were at her side. They whispered if she was all right, and she nodded. “You know,” They looked at Crowley, “there’s no reason you or anyone should know this thing exists. Except that, well, I told you.”

“You told us?” Sam asked.

“Rumors, innuendos… Things sent out on the grapevine.”

“Why tell us anything?”

Crowley thought for a moment before he pointed the gun at Dean again. “I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face.”

“Uh-huh…” Dean sounded skeptical. “Okay, and why exactly would you want the devil dead?”

“It’s called survival.” Crowley said, setting the Colt on the desk. They didn’t understand, and Crowley rolled his eyes. “Lucifer isn’t a demon, remember? He’s an angel, famous for his hatred for humankind. To him, you’re just filthy bags of pus.” He turned away to grab a glass that sat on the desk. “And if that’s the way he feels about you, what does he think of us?”

“Didn’t he create you?” Jaime asked.

“To him, we’re just servants—cannon fodder. If Lucifer manages to exterminate humankind, we’re next.” He leaned forward, turning to Sam and Dean. “So, help me. Let’s all go back to simpler, better times; back to when we all could follow our natures. So, what do you say I give you this,” He held the Colt out, grip facing away from him, “and you go kill the devil?”

No one moved, and Crowley wiggled the gun a bit. Sam took it from him. “Great.”

“Great.” Crowley repeated.

“You… You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, by any chance, would you?” Sam asked.

“Thursday, birdies tell me, he has an appointment in Carthage, Missouri.”

"Great, thanks.” Sam raised the Colt, aiming between the demon’s eyes, and pulled the trigger. Jaime flinched, but was surprised when nothing happened. Crowley stayed standing, a deadpan look on his face.

“Oh, yeah, right.” He said after a beat, moving around the desk to open one of its drawers. “You’ll probably need some ammunition.”

Jaime chuckled. “You gotta admit, that—that was pretty clever.” Dean rolled his eyes. She looked at Crowley just in time to see him give her a wink.

“Uh, excuse me for asking,” Dean said, “but aren’t you kinda signing your own death warrant?” Crowley stopped rifling through the desk drawer, glancing at the older brother. “I mean, what happens to you if we go up against the devil and lose?”

“Number one, he’s gonna wipe us all out anyway. Two, after you leave, I go on an extended vacation to all points nowhere. And three, how about you don’t miss, okay!” His voice echoed through the room as he yelled. “ _Morons!_ ”

Crowley tossed Dean a small package. He caught it and immediately opened it, revealing bullets lined up inside. When he looked up, Crowley was gone. Jaime let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

She jolted when a hand gripped her shoulder. “You okay?” Dean asked. She nodded.

 

**FEB. 3, 2010**

They days leading up to Thursday were spent gathering supplies and researching Bobby’s lore books. Jaime had spent most of her time in Bobby’s salvage yard, becoming more familiar with the pistol Dean had given her and learning how to properly slash a machete. She had gotten used to the recoil, and the hunters had commented on her quick draw and fast reloading. She felt a bubble of joy in her chest when told that.

She had started talking to Jo, the only person at Bobby’s closest to her age, and they found it easy to keep conversation with each other. Jo enjoyed telling Jaime about what being a hunter was like and what kind of monsters were out there. Jaime just liked spending time with the other young woman. She liked talking to somebody who wasn’t Sam, Dean, or Castiel.

On Tuesday, Jaime decided to get the dirt and bloodstains out of her clothes. She was washing it when Ellen tossed a shirt at her, saying the one she wore was ridiculous. Jaime glanced down at the _‘SUPERNATURAL’_ shirt she had been wearing the past few days, and agreed with the hunter. She put on the plain dark-brown shirt and thanked Ellen. 

“No problem.” She told Jaime, then added, “I don’t like seeing pretty girls in ugly clothes.” Jaime laughed.

Wednesday came, and Dean had made a beer run late in the afternoon, buying more than needed. Night fell, and the hunters decided to drink. Jaime didn’t. She leaned against the kitchen counter as Ellen set up ten shot glasses, five for her and five for Castiel. She filled them with a light-amber liquid—probably tequila.

“What’s the point?” Castiel inquired.

“The point,” Ellen said after finishing her fourth glass, “is to get drunk.” She turned her last glass over, pursing her lips at the taste. “All right, big boy. Your turn.”

He stared at the drinks before he picked one up and gulped it down. He continued down the line and had finished in a matter of seconds. “I think I’m starting to feel something.” He said.

Jaime grinned as she looked back to the lore book she had been reading. She turned the page, bobbing her head to Santana’s _‘Oye Como Va’_ that played on the radio.

“It’s gotta be a trap, right?” Sam asked, sitting across from Dean in the living room.

“Sam Winchester, having trust issues with a demon.” Dean chuckled, and Sam frowned. “Better late than never.” They clinked their beers together. “Trap or not, if we got a snowball’s chance, we gotta take it.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Besides,” He continued, lowering his voice, “I’m not sure it is a trap. Check it out.” He moved around some of the papers on Bobby’s desk and pointed to a few newspaper clippings. “Carthage is lit up like a Christmas tree with Revelation omens. There’s been six missing persons reported since Sunday. I think the devil’s there.”

“Okay.”

Dean paused. “Look, when you think about it, you can’t come, Sam.”

He rolled his eyes. “Dean—“

“Look, if I go against Satan and screw the pooch, fine. We’ve lost a game piece. But if you’re there, then we’re handing the devil’s vessel right to him. That’s not smart.”

“Since when have we done anything smart?”

“I’m serious, Sam.”

“So am I.” He leaned forward. “Haven’t we learned a damn thing? If we’re gonna do this, then we’re gonna do it _together._ ” Dean sighed, muttering about how stupid an idea it was. Sam scoffed. “I’m gonna need to be there, anyway. We’ll be short two people.”

“What?”

“Well, Bobby isn’t coming, obviously; he’s staying here.” Dean nodded. “And Jaime can’t come, either.”

“What?” Dean looked at Jaime. She had a book under her arm and shook her head when Jo offered her a beer. He turned back to Sam. “Why the hell not? She’s backup in case I lose; if anyone’s got a chance at stopping the devil if I don’t, it’s her.”

“Dean, she just now got the hang of using a gun.” Sam said. “No one even knows if she can use God’s mojo—not her, not even Cas. If we bring her to Carthage, she's gonna get hurt. If we bring her, and Lucifer finds out who she is, she won't make it out of there.”

“You think Cas would let that happen? You saw how he was when she went to get the Colt with us.”

“And what if something happens to Cas? I’m just saying…” Sam trailed off. “He’s not gonna let her go up against the devil.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean turned to look at her again, and he gave a frustrated sound. “Fine. She stays with Bobby.” He put a hand over his mouth, staring at her a bit longer before she shook his head and sighed.

“I know, Dean.”

The brothers watched the group in the kitchen. Jo went to grab another beer, and Sam turned to his brother. “Boy, talk about stupid ideas.”

Dean bit his lip, muttering, “Good God,” before he stood and walked into the kitchen.

Jaime watched him cross the room and chuckled as he tried to make a move on Jo. She walked into the living room and leaned up against the desk next to Sam. He looked up at her, an uneasy smile on his face. “What’s up, Sam?”

“Huh—What? Uh, n—nothing.”

“C’mon, Sam. I’m not stupid; I saw you and Dean staring at me while you were talking.” She was bluffing. “What’s goin’ on?”

Sam went quiet, running his fingers along the neck of his bottle. “We… Dean and I don’t think you should come with us tomorrow.” She didn’t say anything. “It’ll be too dangerous, and you’re not… You can’t completely protect yourself. We think it’d be better if—if you stayed here with Bobby.”

“Okay.”

“What?”

“I’m agreeing with you.” He looked confused. “Sam, I know I’m not as experienced as you are. I’m glad I can finally shoot straight, and learning incantations has be useful, too, but it’s not enough.” She turned away from him. “I wanna help you guys as much as I can, really, but you guys know what you’re doing—you know what’s best. Maybe if I could, I don’t know, figure out a way to control whatever it was that killed Shannon—maybe then I could do more. But, right now, I’m better off helping from the sidelines.”

“Jaime, you do what you can. Back with Crowley, you—“

“That was luck, Sam.” She admitted. “We tricked those demons, but I… I couldn’t stop shaking. Their eyes, the way they—they charged to kill… I shot at them because I was afraid, not brave.” Sam looked guilty, and she smiled at him. “It’s okay, Sam.”

“Everybody get in here!” Bobby shouted. Jaime and Sam turned to see him fiddling with an old-fashioned camera. “It’s time for the line-up.”

“Oh, come on, Bobby. No one wants their picture taken.” Ellen said, walking into the living room. Sam voiced his agreement, but he stood and walked over, as well.

“Shut up.” Bobby said, adjusting the camera. “You’re drinkin’ my beer.” Dean, Jo, and Castiel filed into the room and squeezed together in a corner. “I’m gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by. Hey, kid,” He nodded at Jaime as he rolled his wheelchair back to join the others, “you mind?”

She moved behind the camera, bending forward to look through the viewfinder. Everyone was smiling. “Always good to have an optimist around.” She heard Ellen say.

“Bobby’s right.” Castiel said. “Tomorrow we hunt the devil. This is our last night on Earth.”

Their smiles disappeared as Jaime took the picture.

 

**FEB. 4, 2010**

Bobby was the only one in the house when Jaime woke up the next day. She stretched out on the couch-bed underneath the window, rubbing at her eyes. “Hey, kid.” She heard Bobby say. He flipped through one of the lore books at the desk, a hand gripped tight around a cell phone. “Food’s on the table.”

“You made breakfast?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it _‘breakfast.’_ It’s almost four-thirty in the afternoon. I didn’t see you eat anything yesterday, so I figured you’d want something.” Jaime made a soft _‘hm’_ sound as she stood and walked into the kitchen. “All’s I got is eggs and bread.”

“That’s…” She stopped, looking down at the sunny side-up eggs and slightly-burnt toast. “That’s fine, Bobby. Thanks.” _I should run to the store and pick up some food later._

He grunted in response, not looking up from his book. Jaime went to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle, then sat down at the table. The shot glasses Ellen and Castiel drank from last night were still there. She stared at them as she ate. “Any word from them?”

“Lost signal as soon as they entered Carthage.” He answered. “When you’re done, get over here and help. I gotta figure out if there’s a pattern to these end time omens that’ve been poppin’ up.”

“Sure.” Jaime said through a mouthful of food.

 

**CARTHAGE, MISSOURI — FEB. 4, 2010**

Castiel looked down at the ring of holy fire around him. He was trapped in some kind of basement. He spun around in the circle once more, then stopped. He faced the person standing in the shadows. “Lucifer.”

The archangel watched him, then pushed off the wall he had been leaning on. “I take it you’re here with the Winchesters.”

“I came alone.”

“Loyalty. Sich a njce quality to see in this day and age.” The devil said, holding his hands behind his back. “Castiel, right?” He asked, pointing at Castiel, who nodded slowly. “I’m told you came here in an automobile.”

“Yes.”

“What was that like?”

“Uhm… Slow.” He said after a moment, then added, “Confining.”

Lucifer lips upturned into a strange frown. “What a peculiar thing you are.”

He stepped closer, and Castiel could now see his face, illuminated by the fire. He didn’t look healthy. There were bags under his eyes, and what looked like burns littered the sides of his face. “What’s wrong with your vessel?”

Lucifer’s brows shot up. “Yes, uhm… Nick’s wearing a bit thin, I’m afraid. He can’t contain me forever, so…” Lucifer shrugged.

“You—“ Castiel stepped forward, but stopped. He looked down at the holy fire separating him and the devil. “You are not taking Sam Winchester. I won’t let you.”

“I wonder if Dad ever had this problem when He was on Earth. You think so, Castiel?”

“The vessel of the Lord would not suffer the same way yours has. He’d make sure no harm would come to her.”

“ _’Her?’_ ” Lucifer repeated, turning to Castiel. The angel’s eyes widened, and Lucifer saw it. “Castiel… Is God actually wandering the planet in one of these things again?” Castiel said nothing, but Lucifer smirked. “Whoever she is, she must be strong—strong enough to contain a force like Him. Maybe she can contain me better than Nick can.” He brought a finger to his chin, tapping it as he added, “Better than Sam can.”

“You will not touch her.”

He chuckled, ignoring the angel as he continued circling. “A woman… Odd choice for Him, but there must be a reason why. I’m looking forward to meeting this vessel.”

“I won’t let you.”

“Why are you fighting me, Castiel?”

“You really have to ask?"

“I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of Heaven wants me dead, and guess what? If they succeed, you’re their new public enemy number one.” Castiel looked away from the devil. “We’re on the same side—like it or not—so why not just serve your own best interests?” He said, then added, “Which, in this case, happen to be mine.”

Castiel kept his gaze low. “I’ll die first.”

Lucifer watched him. “I suppose you will.”

 

**SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA — FEB. 4, 2010**

“ _’The number you dialed is unavailable. Please try your call again.’_ ”

Bobby hit the ‘End Call’ button in frustration. “Damn it, boys.”

Jaime looked up from her book, an apologetic look on her face. Bobby had told her to focus on unusual omens—plague-like ones. She had only found three instances, in areas too far apart to be connected.

Static from one of the shelves against the staircase caught both their attention. Jaime moved and pushed a few books away, revealing an old CB radio. A stuttering voice came through, and Bobby pushed past her and grabbed the mouthpiece. “KC5 Fox Delta Oscar, go ahead.”

“Bobby, it’s Dean. We got problems.”

Jaime sighed, and Bobby looked to the ceiling. “It’s okay, that’s why I’m here. Is everyone all right?”

The radio went silent. “No.” Dean finally said. “It… It’s—It’s Jo. Bobby, it’s pretty bad.”

Bobby lowered the mouthpiece, shaking his head. Jaime felt her chest tighten. “Okay… So, now we figure out what we do next.”

“Bobby, I don’t think she’s—“

“I said, what we do next, Dean.”

It went quiet again. “Right.” Dean said. “Okay, right.”

“Now, tell me what you got?”

Jaime stepped away as Dean explained what had happened to Bobby. The town had been empty when they arrived, and Castiel disappeared thirty minutes ago. He had mentioned something about reapers. They ran into Meg—a demon—and her hellhounds had got Jo. They had been cornered into a hardware store. Jaime leaned against the desk and ran her hands through her hair. _I should’ve gone with them. I shouldn’t have stayed; dangerous or not, I—I could have done something to help._

“Before he went missing, did Cas say how many reapers he saw?” Bobby asked.

“I don’t—I don’t know; he said a lot of things, I guess. Does the number really matter?”

“Devil’s in the details.”

Jaime frowned. _Bad phrasing._

“Bobby, it’s Ellen.” The woman’s voice came through the radio. “The way he was looking, the number of places his eyes went… I’d say we’re talkin’ over a dozen reapers—probably more.”

Jaime lifted her head. She turned to the desk and grabbed a large book, flipping through its pages. “I don’t like the sound of that.” Bobby said.

“Nobody likes the sound of that, Bobby, but what—what does that sound _like?_ ”

“It’s Death.” Jaime said. Bobby looked back at her. “Lucifer’s there to perform a ritual.”

“What?”

“Jaime?”

She walked over to the hunter and held the book in front of him. A post-it note that read _‘Seventh Seal’_ was stuck to the bottom of the page. “I think he’s planning to unleash Death.”

“You mean, like, this dude and taxes are the only sure thing?”

“Death, the horseman. The pale rider in the flesh.” Bobby explained to Dean.

“Unleash, what does that mean? Hasn’t Death been tromping all over the place? Hell, I’ve died a bunch of times already.”

“No, this—this is the angel of Death.” Jaime said, taking the mouthpiece from Bobby. “Dean, the last time he was on Earth, Noah was building the ark.”

A look of realization crossed Bobby’s face. “That’s why the place is crawlin’ with reapers. They’re waitin’ on the big boss to show.”

“You have any _other_ good news?” Dean said.

“In a manner of speaking.” Bobby shooed Jaime away with a wave of his hand. She took the book back to his desk and closed it, running her fingers over the words _‘Holy Bible’_ on the cover.

 

**CARTHAGE, MISSOURI — FEB. 4, 2010**

Castiel watched the screw in the pipe above him spin. He glanced at Meg when she passed in front of him, a smile on her face. “You seem pleased.”

“We’re gonna win. Can you feel it?” She said, leaning against a wall. “You cloud-hopping pansies lost the whole damn universe; Lucifer’s gonna take over Heaven.” The angel’s fingers twitched in small, spinning motions as Meg laughed. “We’re goin’ to Heaven, Clarence!”

“Strange. I heard a different theory from a demon named Crowley.”

Meg’s expression fell. “You don’t know Crowley.”

“He believes Lucifer is using demons to achieve an end.” The screw fell to the ground. Meg didn’t notice. Castiel’s fingers continued to move as another screw started to spin. “Once he does, he’ll destroy you all.”

“You’re wrong.” Meg argued, moving to stand in front of Castiel. “Lucifer is the father of our race—our creator. Your god may be a deadbeat, but mine walks the Earth.”

The pipe broke free from the wall. It swung down and slammed into Meg’s back, pushing her past the ring of holy fire and into Castiel’s arms. He held her tight and pressed a palm against her forehead. Nothing happened. He pulled his hand away, and she laughed.

“You can’t gank demons, can you? You’re cut off from the home office, and you ain’t got the juice. What can you do, you impotent sap?”

Castiel’s eyes moved over her face. “I can do this.” He leaned in close, mouth hovering an inch from the demon’s. He suddenly shoved her away, and Meg screamed as she fell into the fire. Castiel walked over her, using her body as a bridge. He stopped just before he reached the door that led outside, listening to Meg’s pained screams. “You said your god walks the Earth? Well, so does mine.”

 

**SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA — FEB. 5, 2010**

Sam, Dean, and Castiel arrived back at the house around six in the morning, weary and beaten. Bobby looked hopeful when they stepped inside, but his expression faded when Ellen and Jo weren’t with them. Jaime didn’t need to ask what happened in Carthage. She noticed the way Dean’s shoulders slumped when he walked through the door. She noticed the way Sam bit his lip to keep himself from breaking down. She noticed the way Castiel seemed to move a little slower than before.

Castiel left them after ten minutes of somber silence, and Bobby turned on the television. “ _’—just received an update that the governor has declared a state of emergency for Paulding County, including the towns Marion, Fetterville, and Carthage.’_ ” Nothing but bad news. “ _’The storm has reportedly touched off a number of tornados in the area. Death tolls have yet to be estimated, but state officials expect the loss of life and property to be staggering.’_ ”

Jaime put her head between her hands, trying to block out the destruction on the T.V. She looked up when she heard the crackle of fire. Bobby, Sam, and Dean stood around the fireplace behind the desk. The photo she had taken of them was in the Bobby’s hands. She watched him toss it into the flames and stared as it burned up. Jaime pressed her hands to her mouth.

No one spared her a glance as she stood and walked outside. She weaved through the dismantled cars in Bobby’s salvage yard, trying to get as far away from the house as she could. She reached the back of the property, to a broken down fence, and gripped the chain links as she fell to her knees. She kept a hand to her mouth, trying to stay quiet, but her tears fell and her cries slipped through her fingers. Her knuckles turned white as she held onto the fence.

After a while, she heard footsteps behind her, and she turned around. _Dean._ She faced away from him. “Dean, I…” She used the fence to pull herself up. “I’m so sorry… I should’ve been there, I should have—I should have gone with you. If I had done something to help, then Ellen and Jo… They…” Dean stayed quiet as she continued. “It should have been me, Dean. They didn’t deserve this, they didn’t… It should have been me.”

“Don’t say that, kid. You don’t—“

“No, Dean, I… I know.” She chewed her lip. “I can’t do anything—I can’t protect myself, I can’t fight, I’m useless. How—How am I supposed to help and protect others if—if I can’t even protect myself?” She sobbed, shoulders shaking with each breath she took. “I should’ve died instead of them.”

Jaime let out a choked sound as Dean pressed against her side. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and a hand cradled her head. She turned into his chest, reaching up to clutch his arm as she cried into his shirt. “Hey, it’s okay, kid. It’s okay.”

“They—They shouldn’t have died, they didn’t… They didn’t deserve this.” She held him tighter. “It’s my fault, Dean, it’s all my fault. I should’ve been there, but I… I couldn’t help, I couldn’t protect them. It’s all my fault.”

“No, Jaime, it’s not your fault.” He said quietly. “No one blames you… No one blames anyone, all right?” He pressed his face into her hair, squeezing his eyes shut to stop his own tears from falling. “Please… Don’t cry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy what in the heckin' heck?????  
> well this is done. took a while 'cause i had to add and get rid of some stuff (like jaime actually using a gun in crowley's mansion and moving the convo between sam and dean at the impala), but i'm glad it's done  
> chapter 5 already? how many do i have left to write? ...oh. still over ten. neat.  
> i really like writing this one because characters got to cry and show sad emotions (and i love to write people crying), and i alSO GOT TO WRITE LUCIFER!!!! GRANTED, MOST OF THE DIALOGUE CAME STRAIGHT FROM THE EPISODE BUT BOY HOWDY DO I LOVE HIM  
> next chapter won't be anything special. in fact, it might be a bit of a smaller one.  
> thanks for reading, and i hope you enjoyed this chapter!!  
> the title song is called Night Before The Dark by Kivimetsan Druidi (foreign metal yo!!!)


	6. Feeling Ok

**SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA — FEB. 6, 2010**

“Jaime?” No answer. “Jaime, talk to me.” Dean sighed as he leaned against the side of the salvaged Buick. Jaime sat on the hood, lying back on the windshield. “Bobby found us a case in Oklahoma.”

“Cool, have fun."

“C’mon, kid, you can’t sit out here all night, that’s not—“

“I don’t wanna go, Dean.” She said, sitting up. “I can’t… I won't be any help.”

“Yes, you will. Stop mopin’ about what happened—“

“Oh, and you’re dealing with better than I am?” She turned to him, and her eyes looked red and puffy. “What time is it, Dean? Nine-twenty? How many drinks have you had since you came back? Six, ten, twelve—feel free to stop me, I’ll keep going.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, hands clenched at his sides. “Don’t you talk to me like that.”

Jaime sighed. “Dean, I…” She looked away, shaking her head. “I’m just one person—someone who was _shoved_ into all this. I don’t think I’ll ever be _ready to go_ like you and Sam and Bobby. I’ve never... I’m not good with death.”

“I don’t think anyone is, kid.” He lifted himself onto the hood of the car, sitting beside her. The night made the blue of the Buick look black. “Look, I know this isn't exactly what had you had planned for yourself, but you’re here now. And in this life, death is something that happens more often than it should.”

“Well, this life sucks.”

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me.” He scoffed. “But we keep doing it because… We don’t want what happened to Ellen and Jo to happen to anyone else. We do it to keep people alive.”

“But we couldn’t keep Ellen and Jo alive.”

Dean felt his chest tighten. “I know, kid, I know… But do you think they’d wanna see you—or any of us—sittin’ around, cryin’ over what happened? That’s no way to remember them.”

“Yeah… You’re right. I guess spending some time away might help me deal a bit better.” _It might help all of us, no doubt._

“Good.” He chuckled and gave her shoulder a gentle slap. “Bobby said he’d kick my ass if I didn’t convince you to get outta here for a while.”

Jaime’s smile faded. “Dean, I was serious when I said I wasn’t ready to hunt.” He looked confused. “I’ll—I’ll go with you, but I… I don’t think I’m ready to do... _that_ again. I just… I need some time.”

“Hey, hey, it’s no problem.” He said. “We’ll come up with a plan on the way there, okay?” She nodded, and he smiled. “Let’s head back inside; Bobby’s probably got more for us to look at.”

“Okay.” She slid off the hood of the Buick, and Dean did the same.

 

**KETCHUM, OKLAHOMA — FEB. 7, 2010**

It was after ten in the morning when the Impala pulled into the Glenwood Springs Psychiatric Hospital parking lot. Jaime climbed out of the car as Dean turned off the engine, stretching her legs after the long drive. The hospital in front of her was three stories high, with a first-floor made of brick walls while the others were painted white. Bars covered every window, and hedges were along the sides of the building. She leaned against the car as Sam and Dean exited.

“All right, remember,” Dean started, pointing at himself, “I’m Eddie Moscone,” He pointed at Sam, “you’re Alex Moscone,” Then at Jaime, “and you’re Michelle Moscone. We’re a happy bunch of siblings, who just happen to be a little crazy. You,” He pointed at Jaime again, “are the worried sister, and are _not_ getting locked up with us.” She nodded. “Sam and I are gonna do some snoopin', see if we can find anything in there. You do your best to stay out of the crazy house.”

“These places don’t like that word, Dean.” Jaime said as she pushed off the side of the Impala. They headed towards the building and up the steps to a pair of solid wooden doors.

The lobby was clean and white. A half-circle desk was centered at the back of the room, with doors on either side. A woman in navy-blue scrubs sat behind the desk, and she looked up from her computer as they approached. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, hi.” Dean leaned against the desk. “I’m here to, uh, to check my brother in?” The woman looked at him, dull expectation on her face. “Oh, I—I’m Eddie Moscone. I have an appointment with, uh, a Dr. Fuller?”

She looked at her computer as she typed something. Dean looked back at Sam and Jaime, shrugging a bit. “The 10:30 appointment?” He faced the woman and nodded, and she started to type again. “Go through the door on the right. Dr. Fuller’s office is down the hall, third door on the left.”

“Thanks.” Dean gave the woman a small wink as he walked away. She barely caught it, and her fingers twitched to a halt as her cheeks turned pink.

Jaime followed Sam and Dean into the hall and to the third door. Dean knocked twice, and they waited a moment before the door opened. A man in a white coat, with metal-framed glasses, answered. “You must be the Moscones.” He looked them over before fully opening the door. “Please, come in.”

Jaime gave the doctor a sad smile when she walked in. _Time to play the part._ Dr. Fuller took a seat behind his desk, while Sam and Dean sat in the chairs across from him. Jaime sat down on the white couch against the wall.

“All right, let’s see what we’ve got here.” Dr. Fuller picked up a file folder on his desk and began to flip through it. He would occasionally glance at Sam and Dean—he only looked at Jaime twice—and a few minutes of silence passed before he set the folder down. “Your records show you were referred to me by a Dr. Babar in Chicago?”

“That’s right.” Dean nodded.

“Isn’t there a children’s book about an elephant named Babar?”

“I don’t know.” Dean frowned, feigning confusion. “I don’t have any elephant books. Look, Doctor,” He continued, leaning forward in his seat, “I—I think the doc was in over his head with this one, ‘cause my brother, he’s, uh…” He trailed off, whistling a bit and circling his finger at the side of his head—the sign for crazy.

“Okay, fine, thank-you. That’s—That’s really not necessary.” The doctor glanced over at Jaime. She pressed a hand to her mouth and shook her head. The doctor gave her a sympathetic look before he grabbed a pen and clipboard off his desk. “Why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling, Alex?”

“I’m fine.” Sam sighed. Then, after a moment, seemed to change his mind. “I mean—okay, a little depressed, I guess.”

Dr. Fuller wrote something down. “Any idea why?”

“Probably because I started the apocalypse.”

Dr. Fuller stopped and looked at Sam. Jaime’s brow furrowed. _What?_ The doctor turned to her, and she put on a fretful expression. She sighed and gestured to Sam before resting her head in the palm of her hands. Her reaction seemed convincing enough, and the doctor looked away from her. She looked at Sam, the confusion coming back. _Sam… He started everything?_

“You think _you_ started the apocalypse?”

“Well, yeah, I mean…” Sam paused. “I killed this demon—Lilith—and I accidentally freed Lucifer from Hell. So, now he’s topside, and we’re trying to stop him.”

“Wh—Who is?”

“Me. A—And my siblings.” Sam pointed at Dean, then at Jaime. “And, uh, this one angel.”

“Oh, you mean, like—like an angel on your shoulder?”

“No, he doesn’t.” Jaime said. “He calls this angel _‘Castiel’_ , and says he wears a trench coat.”

“See what I mean, Doc?” Dean gestured to his brother, and Dr. Fuller wrote down a few more notes. “I mean, kid’s been beating himself up about this for months. The apocalypse wasn’t his fault.”

The doctor’s pen stuttered over the paper. He looked at Dean. “It’s not?”

“No.” Jaime groaned as Dean started to explain. “There was this demon—Ruby. She got him addicted to demon blood, and near the end, he was practically _chuggin’_ the stuff.” Sam glanced at the floor, ashamed. Jaime noticed how real his expression looked, and she wondered how much of his confession had been true. “My brother’s not evil. He was just,” Dean stopped, looking for the right word, “ _high._ ” Dr. Fuller nodded slowly. “So, could you fix him up so we can get back to travelling the country and huntin’ monsters?”

Dr. Fuller stared at the brothers. He held up a finger, signaling for them to wait, and picked up the phone on his desk. He pressed a button, and there was a soft _beep_ before he spoke into the receiver. “Erma? Cancel my lunch.” He hung up, then pressed another button, smiling at Sam and Dean as there was another _beep._ “Hello, it’s Dr. Fuller. Can you send a nurse to my office, please?” He paused. “Yes, thank-you.”

Sam and Dean exchanged glances as he hung up again. They turned to Jaime, smiling, and she shook her head as she sighed. A nurse, dressed in pale-lilac scrubs, entered and walked over to the doctor’s desk. They whispered to each other, then the nurse turned to the brothers. “Alex, Eddie, will you two come with me, please?”

The brothers stood and followed the nurse out of the office. Jaime stood to move after them. “Michelle,” She was almost to the door when the doctor called her cover name, “I’d actually like to ask you a few questions, as well.”

“Uh…” She leaned out of the doorway to look at Sam and Dean. She watched them walk down the hallway, then disappear behind a set of double doors. “My—My brothers, uh… Shouldn’t I stay with them? I don’t… Will they be okay without me?”

Dr. Fuller went quiet, then wrote something down on his clipboard. “They’ll be fine, Michelle. You can wait for them in the lobby when we’ve finished.”

 _Crap._ She chewed her lip as she walked over and sat in Sam’s seat—the one closest to the door. Her leg bounced up and down anxiously. “What, uh… What do you wanna know?”

“I’d like to know _your_ thoughts on all this.” He clicked his pen. Jaime eyed it. “How do _you_ feel?”

She shifted in the chair, leaning forward and lacing her fingers together. “I feel _exhausted._ S—Alex and Eddie, they say the hunt monsters, but that’s _crazy!_ ” Dr. Fuller frowned at her word choice. “Sorry. It’s just… I haven’t been able to get a good night’s sleep in over a month.”

“A month?”

“When everything started happening.”

“When what started happening?”

“I…” Jaime chewed her lip again. She couldn’t think of anymore lies.

“Michelle,” Dr. Fuller started, “have Alex and Eddie have always been like this?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I met—My brothers got in contact with me around the beginning of the year, and they said… Doctor, they think I’m _God._ ” The doctor’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I know.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’ve been with them for a few weeks now—making sure they don’t get into trouble, or hurt themselves or anyone else—but they just… They keep coming up with these—these _fantasies_ involving monsters and themselves and me, and I just… I’m tired of playing along, Dr. Fuller; I need a break.”

“Well, you’re a good sister for looking out for your brothers.” Dr. Fuller set his pen and clipboard down. Jaime noticed that he had written a few sentences, but couldn’t see what they said. “But I don’t think it’s doing you any good.”

“What?”

“Michelle, from what you’ve told me, I believe you have a small dependency on Alex and Eddie.”

“What, _‘dependency?’_ What the hell does that mean? Where did you even get that from; I just told you—“

“It’s nothing serious, Michelle, please. But I think it’s causing you an immense amount of stress.” Jaime shifted in her seat as the doctor wrote something down on a piece of paper. “This is the number of a psychiatrist—one in town, not at this hospital.”

Jaime's mouth hung open some as she took the paper from him. “You think I need to see someone?”

“I think you need to spend some time away from your brothers.” He said, and her fingers clenched around the strip of paper. “Michelle, talking to someone is a healthy way to relieve stress, that’s all I’m suggesting.”

“Can I go now?”

The doctor sighed. “Of course.” She stood, frowning. “Don’t worry Michelle, your brothers are in good hands.”

Jaime hummed in acknowledgement ass he left the doctor's office and headed back into the lobby. She glanced down at the piece of paper, then crumpled it up and shoved it into her pocket.

 

Jaime slouched in a chair as she waited in the lobby. The woman at the front desk—the same one Dean had winked at—had only looked at her once since she came back from the doctor’s office, over ten minutes ago. A few nurses had walked past her, but she hadn’t seen Sam or Dean. She couldn’t leave yet; she still needed to collect their things and get the keys to the Impala. The door to the left of the front desk opened, and Jaime glanced up only to see that it was another nurse. She sighed, leaning against the arm of the chair.

Her hand played with the rolled up phone number, and she looked down at it, frowning. _A dependency on Sam and Dean? That’s ridiculous, I’m not dependent on them—if anything, I want nothing to do with them; I want my old life back._ She chewed her lip. _Yeah… Yeah, I definitely want my life back._

The door on the left opened again, and a nurse in gray scrubs walked towards her. “Michelle Moscone?” Jaime nodded, putting the piece of paper back in her pocket. “Follow me, please.” She led Jaime through the door and down a hallway like the one that led to the doctor’s office. “Your brothers will be here for at least a month. Our staff will supervise them so we can figure out what kind of specific help they need. There are a few motels that do monthly rates, but it’s not necessary for you to remain in town.” The nurse looked back and noticed Jaime’s confused expression. “Michelle, you’re brothers’ conditions already seem quite dangerous, and with what you told Dr. Fuller, it’s likely they may remain here for a while if there’s no sign of improvement.”

“Okay.” Jaime nodded. The nurse didn’t say anything. They walked through the double doors at the end of the hall and entered a visiting area. Sam and Dean were near a window, and they walked over to Jaime when she entered the room. They both wore blue scrubs underneath white robes, and she smirked as she looked them over. “Those look comfy.”

“Extremely.” Dean grinned as he handed her a duffel bag. “That’s everything we came in here with.” He held out the Impala keys but pulled back when she reached for them. “Be careful with my Baby.”

“Dean, I’m just driving to the nearest motel; it’s, like, three miles out of town.” She snatched the keys from him. “Your car’s gonna be fine. I just hope you two will be.” She glanced around the visiting room. A few orderlies stood near the exits. “Are you sure you don’t want me here?”

“No, we need you on the outside.” Sam said. “Wait in the parking lot after hours in case we need a quick ride out of here.” Jaime nodded. “My computer’s in the car, so you can go ahead and use it. Just don’t crash it.” He glared pointedly at his brother.

Jaime chuckled. “Got it.”

“All right.” Dean held her shoulder, and she glanced at the wristband on his arm. Eddie Moscone, 31: Paranoid schizophrenic, narcissistic personality disorder, religious psychosis. “See ya on the other side, kid.”

“Don’t get into too much trouble, guys.” Jaime smiled as a male nurse led the brothers away. She watched them leave through a door that had a large lock on it, then turned and walked back to the hospital entrance.

 

Seven hours after Sam and Dean checked themselves into the hospital, Jaime had checked into a motel and only left to get herself some food. She used one of Dean’s fake credit cards to rent herself a room for the week and had watched television for a few hours before she got hungry and walked to the nearest fast food place. She brought her pistol with her, just in case, but had walked there and back to the motel without any trouble.

Two hours later, around eight at night, she had decided too much T.V. was bad for her, and went to get Sam’s laptop out of the Impala. She looked up a few articles about the deaths at the hospital, but didn’t get much from them—the patients’ deaths had been written off as suicides, but she knew better than that by now. A thought crossed her mind, and she opened up a new tab and typed her full name into the search bar. Two articles came up, and she clicked the first link.

It was a missing person report. She suspected her friends from college had filed it with the Salt Lake City police department. It wasn’t very detailed, and it didn’t seem like they were searching anywhere outside of the surrounding counties. She opened up another tab and typed in the Salt Lake City police department’s web address. The site appeared after a few seconds, and she clicked around the webpage and hit a few keys before detailed code of the entire site flooded the page. Her fingers moved quickly as she highlighted, deleted, and rewrote a few lines of code. After a few minutes, she hit _‘Enter’_ , and the entire police database appeared. New files had shown up—secret files, cold cases, active cases—and she scrolled through them, looking back to January. She found the file with her name on it and clicked it to read the much more detailed report out loud.

“ _’Missing since mid-January, Jaime-Lynn Bryce has left no trace as to where she could have gone. Friends and classmates at University of Applied Technology in Salt Lake City, Utah have not heard from her since her disappearance, and her family has not had any contact with her, as well. No witnesses have come forth, and there is no information whether she has been involved in a kidnapping or has runaway of her own will. Before she vanished, Jaime-Lynn was last seen at the home of classmate and friend, Shannon Dodery—who has disappeared, as well. It is unknown if the two disappearances are connected.’_ ”

The report went on to describe her academic life, as well as a few words from her friends and the professors she knew at school. There was a section on what her family had to say about her vanishing, but she chose not to read it. She was surprised they told the police anything at all.

She scrolled down the webpage, and there was a picture of her that the police had used. It was the photo on her school I.D.—taken three years ago, before she started her freshman year at the university. Her red hair was longer, she was more than forty pounds overweight, and she still wore her glasses every day. She sighed, clicking out of the tabs and closing Sam’s laptop.

The clock on the wall read _8:37 p.m._ There were still a few hours left until the hospital closed for the night. She took Dean’s phone out of the duffel he had given her and set an alarm for ten. She moved over to the bed and collapsed on top of it, hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep before staking out until dawn the next morning.

 

**FEB. 8, 2010**

Jaime waited until almost six in the morning at the hospital parking lot. During her watch, she had heard a scream come from inside the building, which definitely caught her attention. She half-expected Sam and Dean to come running down the front steps, but they didn’t. She left around five-fifty and made it back to the motel a few minutes after six. She slept until one in the afternoon and went to get food after she woke up—with her gun in her coat pocket, of course.

The day went by slow, and Jaime began to realize she didn’t like being alone. It didn’t used to bother her as much, but now it gave her too much time to think. She didn’t like thinking, because her thoughts always went back to what had happened in Carthage. The new amd intense life she had been experiencing the past two months was something that she started getting used to. She didn’t know if that was a good thing when she realized it.

She hadn’t done much of anything that day—a bit of walking around town and buying some new clothes with Dean’s and Sam’s credit cards. At one point, she went to the library to see if they had any information about the hospital, but there was nothing that would help. She headed back to the motel around nine-thirty that evening. She pulled the key out of her coat pocket when she made it to her room, and locked the door once inside.

“Hello, Jaime.”

“—!” She scrambled for her gun as she turned and slammed up against the door. She let out a gasp when saw Castiel standing in the middle of the room. “Oh, my God, Castiel…” Her grip on the gun relaxed, and she sighed loudly as she held a hand against her chest. “Don’t sneak up on me, I almost had a heart attack.”

Castiel watched her. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She moved away from the door and walked over to the bed, passing the angel on her way. “What do you want?”

“I just…wanted to say _‘hello.’_ ”

Jaime looked at him, brow raised. “Well, now you have—twice.” She rummaged through the plastic bag of clothes, looking for the long-sleeved shirt she bought earlier that day. She had overheard some people saying it would be cold that night, which prompted her to buy it. “What do you want?”

“I, uh…” He paused and looked around the motel room. “Where are Sam and Dean?”

“Working a case at the mental hospital a few miles from here.” She pulled the light-gray shirt out of the bag and unzipped her tattered, grey-green coat. “I’m heading over in a few minutes, just in case they finish and need a ride outta there.” She started on the buttons of Sam’s large flannel that she wore, which was also a bit torn in some places.

“I see.”

Jaime sighed, stopping her work on the flannel and turning around to face the angel. His attention snapped to her when she did. “What do you want?”

He blinked. “I just came to—“

“Stop avoiding the question, Castiel.”

He turned away from her, hands clenching and unclenching into fists. Jaime watched him. He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You… You’ve been different since Carthage.”

Jaime’s eyes widened, and she faced away from him. _No. No, no, no, no—I’m not talking about this right now. Not now, not ever._ She busied herself by pushing things around in the duffel bag. She wasn’t looking for anything, but she needed something to keep her from talking to the angel.

“Jaime, listen to me,” His voice sounded closer, “what happened to Ellen and Jo was not your fault.” She tensed at their names. “It’s this life, it’s a hunter’s life. They knew the dangers, they knew what they were getting into. You can’t blame yourself—“

“You don’t get it, Castiel!” Jaime’s hands slapped down against the bedsheets, and he went silent. “I should have been there, I could’ve done something to help! I… I could have been a decoy—a distraction—and they... Ellen and Jo would’ve gotten out of there alive.”

“You would have sacrificed yourself just to—“

“ _In a heartbeat!_ ” She shouted, then drew a quick breath. Both of them remained quiet for a moment. “I know it’s strange—why care so much about people I only knew for a few days? They were good people, Castiel. They knew what could happen, but they went anyway, while I just… I did nothing while the rest of you risked your lives, when I knew I should’ve gone with. When I should’ve been there to help.”

“Jaime, you did nothing wrong.” Castiel stepped closer to her. “Having you stay behind was the only way we could ensure your safety.” He paused. “I saw my brother, Jaime—I saw Lucifer.” She didn’t say anything. “If he had found you, you could have been—“

“—Killed? You think I don’t know that?” She spun around to face him. “You think I don't know what the devil would’ve done to me if he found me? How he—he would’ve been too busy with me—hurting, torturing, _killing me_ —to free Death? If I had been there, then maybe…” She pressed a hand to her mouth. A sob slipped past her fingers, and she slid her hand up over her eyes.

“Jaime—“

“No, Castiel, just… Just go away, please.” She turned away from him, hand still over her eyes. “I don’t wanna talk anymore.” Silence fell between them again, and there was a soft _whoosh_ when Castiel disappeared from the motel room. Jaime’s lip trembled as she collapsed to her knees, tears falling down her face.

 

**FEB. 9, 2010**

Sam and Dean still hadn’t finished the case, and Jaime started to worry about them. When she woke up the next morning, she used Dean's cell phone to call the hospital. The line rang four times before a woman answered.

“Glenwood Springs Psychiatric Hospital. My name is Victoria, how may I direct your call?”

“Oh, hi, Victoria. My name is Ja—uh…” She paused, cleating her throat as she tried to remember what her cover name was. “My name is Michelle Moscone; my brothers, uh—Alex and Eddie—checked in a few days ago. I was just calling to see if, uhm...if they’re doin’ okay?”

Victoria went quiet. “Let me transfer you.”

“Oh, okay. Thank—“ The line started to ring again before she could finish.

After about six rings, someone picked up. “This is Dr. Fuller.”

“Hey, doctor, it’s Michelle Moscone—Alex and Eddie’s sister?”

“Oh, yes; how are you doing, Michelle?”

“I’m fine, but I called to see how my brothers are doing.”

Dr. Fuller went quiet, just like Victoria. “Michelle,” He said after a moment, “they’re not making any progress.” Jaime’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I know it’s only the third day, but they've gotten worse. Eddie has separated himself from everyone else, and Alex has been having violent outbursts.”

 _Holy crap, what’s going on over there?_ “Is, uh… Are they okay?”

“No, they’re not. Eddie’s schizophrenia has gotten worse, and he seems to be developing a mild case of pantophobia.” Jaime didn’t know what that was, but she didn’t have time to ask as the doctor continued. “Alex attacked a few of our nurses yesterday, and… He snuck out of his room and came at me with a knife, Michelle.”

“Oh, my God.” Jaime sat down on the bed. _Sam and Dean wouldn’t act like that so suddenly, something’s happening to them. Should I… They said not to go help them, and I could be affected by whatever’s messin’ with them, but… They’re not okay._ “Is—Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so. I’m afraid, with their current conditions, your brothers will be here for a while.” Jaime went silent. “We’ll do everything we can for them, but I don’t see them improving anytime soon. I’m sorry, Michelle.”

“It... It’s okay. Thank-you, doctor.” Jaime said before she hung up. She tossed Dean’s phone onto the bed and dropped her head into her hands. “What is happening, you guys?”

 

**FEB. 10, 2010**

Tonight was the last night, Jaime told herself when she pulled into the hospital parking lot around eleven. If Sam and Dean didn’t finish the case and weren’t running out to the car by sunrise, she was going to check herself in and do her best to help them. She didn’t have to do that, because around one in the morning, loud alarms blared from the hospital. She sat in the driver’s seat, hands clenched around the wheel as she stared at the building.

One of the doors on the side of the building flew open, and two figures came running out, white coats flapping behind them. They looked around the parking lot and dashed for the Impala when they saw it. Jaime recognized them as Sam and Dean as they came closer. She could hear Dean talking as he moved towards the driver’s side. Sam stopped near the trunk of the car, and Dean turned to him. Jaime could hear him ask his brother if he was okay.

 _No, what are you doing?_ Dean moved away from the door, and stepped towards Sam. _Alarms are going off, the police are probably on their way—we need to go!_ She turned and watched them from the back windows. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she saw Dean step closer to Sam. Sam went stiff, then his chest heaved as he sighed, and Dean turned back to the car and opened the driver’s door.

“Hey, kid.”

“Hey, Dean.”

“Backseat.” He nodded towards the back of the car. Jaime opened the passenger’s door and stepped out, nearly running into Sam.

“Hey, Sam.” He nodded in acknowledgement, but she didn’t miss the troubled look on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

 _Okay._ “Okay.” She moved past him and climbed into the backseat. Sam got in and shut his door, and Dean made a pleased sound as he started the car. He ran his hands over the wheel before driving out of the parking lot. 

At one point, Dean asked if they needed to stop by the motel. Jaime told them she had packed everything up and put it in the trunk before she left—she had been doing that every night, just in case. They drove past the motel and eventually reached a sign saying they’ve left Ketchum. Jaime could feel the tense air in the car and chewed her lip before she spoke.

“So, what was it?” They didn’t answer. “What, uh... What was in the hospital?”

“A wraith.” Sam said.

“Oh. ...What’s a wraith?”

“Nasty bitch that feeds on brains.” Dean said. “It disguised itself as a nurse, which made a mental hospital its perfect hunting ground.”

“How’d you kill it?”

“Knife dipped in silver, but we couldn’t get that—obviously.” Sam explained. “We used silver-plated scalpels.”

“Oh.” Jaime leaned back into the seat. She reached up to scratch at her head. She could feel that her nails had grown longer since being with Sam and Dean. She tugged at a strand of her red hair, noticing that it had grown, too. It now rested against her neck some.

“How was it having a motel room all to yourself?” She lifted her head to see Dean looking at her from the rear view mirror. “Have any fun while we were gone?” He smirked, and Sam gave him a look.

She scoffed lightly. “Yeah, loads.” She joked, before shaking her head. “No, not really, just hung out, I guess. Didn’t do much of anything.” _They don’t need to know about Castiel._

“Really? No one came and said _‘hi’_ to you?”

“Yeah, Dean, no one showed up.” She said, becoming suspicious. “Did you expect me to make friends and have ‘em over for a party? I don’t have any friends.” Dean’s hands tightened on the wheel a bit. “Plus, I figured I’d be safer if I just stayed inside the whole time.”

The brothers exchanged a similar look, but didn’t pry any further. Dean focused back on the road, and Sam turned to look out the passenger window. They drove in silence for about fifteen minutes before Jaime spoke up again.

“Were you guys serious...when you said that you started the apocalypse?” She saw both of them tense up at her question. She wondered if she should have kept quiet.

Dean turned to her. “It wasn’t Sam’s fault.” Her eyes widened, realizing that they had told the truth. “Ruby got him addicted to demon blood, he didn’t know what he was doing.”

Jaime looked at Sam. “So, you really did free Lucifer...”

“We’ll talk about it some other time, okay?” Sam said, voice a tad harsh. “Let’s just drive.”

Silence fell around the three again. Jaime looked between the brothers before she slid down the backseat until she was lying down. She stared up at the roof of the car, mouth tilted into a frown. She wasn’t upset with them, she just wanted to know what the hell happened that forced her to become a part of everything. She didn’t know if they would tell her about it in detail, and she didn’t expect them to. She closed her eyes, not minding the bumpy road as she drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapters that i don't really have any motivation for, or ones that are based off of episodes i don't really care about all take forever to write gah...  
> this chapter is kind of eh. not really much in it. i guess you learn a bit more about jaime but eh. i like the interaction between her and castiel, and then the phone call between her and dr. fuller. those were both pretty fun to write. (little fact i didn't...include, but dean and sam actually told castiel to check up on jaime while they were gone 8) ). the scene with jaime and dean was also a little hard for me to write, since dean doesn't really do feelings and shit like that.  
> next chapter...is probably something like this, maybe a little longer. im actually really excited about the chapter after that one tho, but sit tight. might not be around for a while, since it's taking me so long to write chapters lately.  
> as always, thanks for reading, and i hope you liked this chapter!!  
> title is Feeling Ok by Best Coast (its kinda catchy too)


	7. Young And Realistic

**GENESEE COUNTY, NEW YORK — FEB. 11, 2010**

“Wait, what’s going on?”

“We’re movin’, kid.” Dean said, packing up his things.

Jaime rubbed at her eyes and turned to the clock on the nightstand. “At two-forty-five in the morning?” Dean nodded, and she groaned. “Where are we going, and why?”

“Massachusetts.” Sam said. “An old friend called and said she needed some help.”

Jaime sat up, and the bedsheets fell off her torso a bit. She had gotten less than four hours of sleep before Dean woke her with a rough shake. “So, we’re just gonna head over there, no questions asked?”

“She’s a friend, Jaime.” Sam turned to her. “We help our friends.”

“Hm.” She reached down to grab her clothes and boots next to the bed. “I thought you couldn’t make friends in this life.” Sam frowned.

“Hey, children,” Dean spoke up, “stop fighting and finish packing. We got a four-hour drive to get to.”

Sam went back to folding his clothes and pushing them to the bottom of his duffel bag. Jaime headed to the bathroom to change. Once inside, she put on her long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and flannel. She tugged at the light-gray and blue material to where it stopped at her thighs. It was Sam’s—she had gotten into the habit of grabbing his large shirts to use as an extra layer to help keep warm.

There were a few knocks at the door. “You done in there, kid?” It was Dean.

“Yeah, I’ll be right out.” Jaime answered, opening the door. Dean faced away from her and swung his bag over his shoulder.

“All right, let’s go.” He said. They filed out of the motel room and rounded the Impala, tossing their things into the backseat.

Jaime was about to climb in, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. It was a gentle grip, and she turned around to see Sam. “Is that my shirt?” He asked, looking at the flannel underneath her gray-green coat.

She grinned. “No, I think it’s mine.”

Sam raised a brow and chuckled as he let go of her. “Yeah, you’re right—it fits you _perfect._ ” He joked. Jaime smiled, and they both got in the car.

 

“So, what’s goin’ on?” Jaime asked. She leaned forward, resting her forearms along the front seat. “What did this _‘old friend’_ want?”

It was almost four in the morning. They had been on the road for a while, but Housatonic was still some hours away. “Her name’s Donna." Sam said. "She used to babysit us when we were kids. She called Dad’s old phone this morning and said a ghost attacked her daughter.”

“A ghost? Like, uh... Like the Leticia Gore-thing back in,” She pursed her lips as she tried to remember, “back in Ohio?”

“Yeah, like that.” Dean said.

Jaime hummed in acknowledgement as she sat back against the leather. She rested her head on the stacked up bags, before she leaned forward again and asked, “Where is your dad?” Dean and Sam tensed, and Jaime chewed her lip. “Sorry, should I have not—“

“No, it’s okay.” Sam said, but he wouldn't look at her. “He, uh... He died a few years back."

“Oh.” The three of them didn’t talk for a while after that.

 

**HOUSATONIC, MASSACHUSETTS — FEB. 11, 2010**

Dean pulled into the motel parking lot at six-fourteen in the morning. He went to the front office, paid for a few nights’ stay, and then they hauled their bags into their room. Sam unlocked the door, and Jaime followed him and Dean inside. She looked at the two beds, then walked over to one of them and dropped her bag on the floor. She collapsed face-first on top of the sheets with a soft _fwump._

“What are you doing?”

She turned and saw Dean standing beside the bed. He had his arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked up in slight-amusement. “Going to bed.”

“No, you’re not.” He said, leaning down and gripping one of her legs. He yanked her down the bed some, and she held onto the sheets. “You’re coming to work this case with us.”

Jaime turned onto her back and shook her head. “I can’t, Dean.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Sam asked, straightening up from across the room. “We might need your help on this.”

Jaime looked at Dean and sat up. “I... I already told Dean.” She lowered her gaze. “After what happened in Carthage, I just... I can’t do it, Sam. I’m not ready to try and help people, only to see them die.”

“Y'know, you’re not the only one affected by what happened.” He said. “We’re all dealing with it in our own ways, but sitting around, _hoping_ you’ll feel better, is a crappy way to cope.”

 _Excuse me?_ “Excuse me?”

Sam ignored her, and he picked up his jacket and headed for the door. “We don’t have time for this, we have to go help Donna.” He opened the door and glanced back at her. “Stay here if you want.”

Jaime turned to Dean when he shut the door. “What’s up with your brother?”

Dean sighed. “We’re all still upset about Carthage, Jaime. The case at the hospital didn't help, either.” He admitted. “Sam, he... I’ll talk to him, okay?”

“Okay.” Dean moved across the room to grab his bag. He walked back to the bed and tossed something on the sheets. Jaime looked to see what it was—a black flip phone—then at Dean. “What’s this for?”

“In case you need us, or if we need you.” She raised a brow. “I know you say you’re not ready, but if we need you, then you need to be there for us. That’s just how it’s gotta be.”

They stared at each other, and Jaime finally reached for the phone. Dean walked out of the motel room, and Jaime fell back against the bed. She glanced at the nightstand and saw an extra room key left for her. She stared at it, before turning away and closing her eyes. The cell phone was still in her hand.

 

It was a little after eleven at night when Sam came back, without Dean. He rushed into the motel room and slammed the door behind him. Jaime jumped when he did, and his eyes darted around the room before they landed on her. His brows knit together, confused, and Jaime’s eyes went wide, also confused.

“Sam, are you okay?” He didn’t answer her, just kept staring. “Sam, what happened?”

“What?” He finally panted out. “What—Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, uh...”

He tilted his head, as if he didn’t know who she was. “...Jaime.”

“You...?” He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Jaime, I—I knew that!”

Jaime swung her legs off the bed and crossed the room. He inhaled sharply when she moved close. “Where’s Dean?”

“We, uh...” Sam started to move away from the door, but he kept his eyes on her. “We got separated."

“Okay...” She walked back to the bed and picked up the phone Dean gave her, checking to see if she had any missed calls or messages. Nothing. She turned and saw Sam standing in the kitchen area. He was still staring at her. “Dude, what?”

“Wh—What?”

“You’ve been staring at me ever since you got back. Is there something on my face?” She wiped a hand around her mouth. “Is my shirt on backwards or something, what?”

“No, it’s just...” He grinned. “You’re Jaime, you—you’re _God._ ”

Jaime inhaled sharply. “No, I’m not, Sam. You know that I’m not; are you sure you’re okay?”

His smile faded, eyes shifting back and forth. “Sorry, it’s just... It’s been a rough day, I guess.” She turned away from him, but he didn’t seem to understand that the conversation was over. “But, you’re Jaime. That means you’re God, so—“

“Sam, stop.” She held up a hand, immediately shutting him up. She sighed and started unbuttoning the flannel she had been wearing. She slipped it off her arms, and her shirt rode up a little over her stomach. She glanced at Sam, and he was staring at her again. Specifically, her torso. She frowned, rolling up the flannel and tossing it at his head. He jumped when it hit him. “I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on with you, but I’m gonna get some sleep.” She lifted the sheets and pulled them up to her shoulders. “Don’t wake me up.”

“Yeah, sure.” Was the last thing she heard before she closed her eyes.

 

**FEB. 12, 2010**

Jaime jolted awake when something smacked her thigh. Her eyes snapped open, and her hand fumbled for her pistol under the pillow. She let out a sharp, relieved sigh when she saw that it was Dean. Sam was at the kitchen table, putting on his flannel and jacket. Their weapons were spread out on top of the other bed.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Sam let the maid in.” Dean explained. “She saw the guns, so we gotta go.”

“What?” She turned to Sam. “Why’d you do that?”

“It was an accident!”

Jaime groaned as she threw the covers off her body. She brought her pistol out from under the pillow and reached for her phone on the nightstand, only to fumble with air. “Where’s the phone?” She asked, turning to Sam again. “Did you take the phone?”

“No.”

“Sam, no one else has been in this room. I had the phone before I went to sleep—what did you do with it?”

“Nothing, I told you, I—“

“Hey, hey, hey! We don’t have time for this!” Dean intervened. “Get your things together and go wait by the car. I gotta hit the head, then we’ll head out, okay?”

Jaime nodded, glaring suspiciously at Sam, who avoided her gaze. She began to move the weapons from the bed into a duffel bag. Sam started to pack up the clothes, throwing them into a bag carelessly. She watched him, before zipping up the duffel bag and walking over to him. “Here, Sam.” She handed him the bag full of weapons.

He stopped, a mixture of shock and excitement on his face as he whispered, “There are guns in here.”

“...Yeah.”

“ _Real_ guns.”

“Yes, Sam. Real guns,” She said, “and they’re yours. Can you take them to the car?” He nodded, a bit over-excitedly, and took the Impala keys off the dresser as he left. _What’s going on with him?_ She looked at the bag of clothes he had been working on and started to take them out. She folded and rolled them up to make more space, easily fitting everything inside. As she zipped the bag closed, Dean stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting his jacket. “Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

She turned to the door, making sure it was shut, before she turned back to Dean. “Sam’s been acting weird ever since he got back.”

“Weird, how—the guy’s always been a little off.” He snickered, but stopped when he saw that Jaime wasn’t laughing. “Okay—weird, how?”

“I don’t know, he... He acted like he didn’t know who I was, then was, like, _stunned_ when he figured it out. He... Dean, he thought I was God, but—“

“—But, you’re not. Just a vessel.”

“Yeah. And, he kept _staring_ at me, which was...fine, I guess. But then, I started to change, and he...” Dean raised a brow, and Jaime felt her face heat up as she continued. “I—I mean, I’m pretty sure Sam doesn’t think of me _that_ way, but... He was lookin’ at me like...” She hoped he would get the hint.

Dean glanced at the motel door, humming in thought. “Yeah, that is weird. And he let the maid in, which he knows not to do.” He sighed. “All right, let’s just...keep an eye on him for now, okay?”

“Okay.”

They finished up the last bit of packing and left the room together. Sam sat in the front seat of the Impala, and Jaime loaded the bags into the back as Dean returned the room keys. She climbed into the car and rested her head against the leather seat.

“You kids ready?” Dean said when he returned to the car.

Jaime nodded, and Sam grinned. “Absolutely.” Dean took a seat and shut the door. There was a pause, then Sam turned to Dean. “Hey, can I drive?”

Dean stopped. He looked back, sharing a glance with Jaime, before he nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure.” The brothers got out and switched seats.

Sam started the car, and his smile widened as he slid his hands over the wheel. “Oh, this is so sweet!” He revved the engine a few times.

“You wanna get the lead out, Andretti? C’mon.” Dean said. He eyed Sam as he switched gears. “Reverse.” He said. Sam gave the car a little gas. “Reverse!” He panicked as Sam pushed down on the gas pedal.

The tires squealed as the Impala shot backwards. Jaime gasped and gripped the front seat. Her head slammed against the leather when the car rear-ended something. She hissed through her teeth and rubbed at her forehead, turning around to see they had crashed into a dumpster. A few trash bags had fallen out of the bin, and some had landed on the trunk of the car. She faced forward and saw Dean glaring at Sam.

“It’s in reverse.” He said through his teeth, getting out of the car.

Sam got the hint as he exited, as well. “I’m really, _really_ sorry.” He said as he rounded the front of the Impala.

“Shut up.” Dean said. He slammed the driver’s door shut, put the Impala into the correct gear, and drove out of the parking lot. Trash bags rolled off the trunk as they left.

 

They had checked into another motel, twenty minutes across town. Dean decided it was better to leave most of their weapons in the car, so they each brought their pistol with them. Sam grinned when Dean handed him the gun, pretending to shoot things and making gun noises. Once inside, Jaime took off her coat and was about to take off her flannel, but she stopped. She glanced at Sam, then walked into the bathroom to change out of her clothes. She came out in one of Dean’s loose-fitting t-shirts and sweatpants and tossed her clothes onto the couch against the far wall.

She looked at Sam again, then moved over to the bed Dean sat on. “Hey, Dean?”

“What’s up, kid?".

“Can I sleep with you?” She asked in a hushed voice. He stopped unlacing his boots and raised a brow when he looked up. “It’s... The way Sam was acting back at the other motel freaked me out a bit.” She explained. “I don’t... I don’t wanna share a bed with him tonight.

Dean was quiet before a smile broke out on his face. “Aw, you finally admittin' to liking me more than Sammy?” Sam lifted his head at the mention of his name, but didn’t seem to know what was going on. Jaime put a hand over her face, but couldn't stop herself from smiling. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just don’t kick me in your sleep.”

“No promises.” She walked to the other side of the bed, got under the covers and closed her eyes, ready to get at least a few hours of sleep.

“Are you guys together?”

Jaime sat up and faced Sam in one swift movement, eyes wide. Dean stiffened and turned to his brother. “N—No, Sam, what... Where the... How did you even...?” Jaime could feel her face burning as she stuttered.

“C’mon, Sam, be...be serious. You gotta know she’s not my type.” Dean said. Jaime scoffed, and he shrugged at her. “Not—Not totally.”

“Oh, sorry. I, uh... I guess I just thought that—“

“Well, you thought wrong.” Jaime said shortly. _Where did he get that from?_ “Good night.” She lied back down, trying to get comfortable after an uncomfortable conversation.

She felt the covers move and the bed dip some as Dean went down next to her. She could feel his warmth against her back. “Night, Jaime.” She heard him say before the lights went out, enveloping the room in darkness.

 

“ _’This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do.’_ ”

A teenage boy sighed as he stood in front of a mirror, looking over himself in confusion. “Dean, I’ve called every phone we’ve got.” He said, turning away from his reflection. “Where are you, man? Listen, this is gonna sound crazy— _really_ crazy—but, uhm... I think I’m in the wrong body.” He chuckled, and his voice cracked a bit. “Could use a little help here. I—I think I have asthma. Call me back.” He sighed as he hung up and dialed another number.

The line rang twice before a man answered. “Lucky Star Motel.”

“Hello, could you please connect me to, uh, room 102?” The teenager asked, turning back to the mirror and looking himself up and down.

“Room 102? Oh, nah, those three checked out, middle of the night.”

“Wait, they checked out?”

“Yeah—one leather jacket, one Sasquatch, and one chick. They left.”

He frowned and hung up, stepping towards the mirror. He took everything in—the dark stringy hair, the skinny physique, the pubescent acne—and turned his head side-to-side, watching as the reflection mimicked his movements.. “Who _are_ you?”

 

Jaime woke up to the smell of breakfast and coffee a few hours later. She stretched on the bed, noticing the spot next to her was empty before she moved to stand. She saw Dean sitting at the kitchen table, rummaging through a fast food bag, and he smiled as she approached.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” He said, taking out a breakfast sandwich. “How’d you sleep?”

“Well, I slept.” She answered, earning a chuckle from him. “Where’s Sam?”

"Showering." Dean tilted his head towards the bathroom as he grabbed one of the three coffees on the table. “He showers like a girl—takes forever.”

Jaime rolled her eyes as she sat at the able and reached for a coffee, tucking one of her legs under the other. She sipped at her drink, then pulled it away and frowned at the taste.

“What? Don’t like coffee?”

“I don’t like it black.” She stuck her tongue out, trying to get rid of the bitter taste, and peeked inside the fast food bag. “You didn’t grab any sugar or creamer?”

“That stuff’s for wimps.”

“Well, black coffee is disgusting.” She grimaced, setting the cup down. The bathroom door opened, and Sam stepped out in a gray t-shirt and jeans. She watched him dry his shaggy hair with a towel, and he smiled at her when they locked eyes. “Dean got breakfast.”

“Oh, sweet.” He said, walking over to the table and sitting down. He reached into the bag and pulled out a sandwich. The grease bled through the wrapping, but Sam didn’t seem to mind as he opened it up and took a large bite. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

“Uh... We’re working. The case, remember?”

Sam squinted at Dean, then hummed in realization and nodded. “Oh, right! Yeah, the case—of course.” He chuckled, swallowing his food. “Where, uh, where do we start?”

“Well, since you couldn’t find where Maggie Briggs was buried, we’re gonna have to do an all-day tombstone roll to see if we can dig her up.” Dean sounded a bit annoyed as he took a bite of his sandwich.

“Wait, Maggie Briggs? You mean, like—like, the _witch_ Maggie Briggs?”

“Yeah, Sherlock.”

“She’s in the basement.”

Dean and Jaime both raised their heads to look at him. “Wait, wh—what basement?” Dean repeated, setting down his food.

“Isaiah Pickett’s house.” Sam smiled proudly. “There’s this legend that he hung her, but he didn’t. The real truth is that she was carrying his illegitimate child, and he killed her and then buried her in the basement.”

“Her _‘murdered chylde.’_ ” Jaime said. She remembered Dean mentioning what they had seen at Donna's house during the ride to the motel.

Dean nodded. “That would explain the scratches; how do you know all this?” He asked, eyes narrowing as he turned back to Sam.

“Oh, I’ve done all _kinds_ of research on it.” Dean didn’t look convinced, and Sam’s excitement faltered a bit. “I mean, y’know... Last night, while you guys were sleeping.”

“Yeah. Nice work, I guess.”

“Good job, Sam.” Jaime said hesitantly. Sam turned to her, smiling with a mouth full of food, and she looked at Dean. “So, uh... I guess, I’ll sit this one out again.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

She turned to Sam, mouth turning up into a frown. “Is that okay with you?”

“...Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” He looked confused.

“Wha—because... You’re not mad?” Now it was her turn to look confused.

Sam panicked for a second. “Y—Yeah, uh... It’s cool; I—I’m over it now.” He smiled. “Go ahead and stay here, Dean and I can handle it; we don’t need your help.”

Jaime’s eyes widened. “Oh.” She leaned back in her seat and looked down at her hands in her lap. Sam and Dean started to talk about the plan to dig up Maggie Briggs, while Jaime was left alone with her thoughts. _What...? I—I don’t get it... He was so bothered when I didn’t help them yesterday, but now he—it’s like he completely forgot about it._ She glanced at Sam. _What is going on with you?_

 

Around six in the evening, Dean came back to the motel, without Sam. He stormed into the room and didn’t give Jaime a chance to lower her pistol before he said, “That’s not Sam.”

“What?”

“That isn’t Sam.”

“Yeah, you said that—what do you mean?” Jaime put the gun inside the pocket of her gray-green jacket. “I mean, I knew... I thought something was going on with him today, but what do you mean he isn’t Sam?”

Dean walked past her. “Something’s just... _off._ The way he’s acting, the things he’s been saying... That’s not Sam.”

“Well, who do you think it is?”

“No idea.”

Jaime sighed, then she looked around the room. “Wait, where is he?”

“We were out drinking, and he left the bar with a woman.” Dean explained, then he chuckled. “Y’know, he got drunk pretty fast—and I mean, fast—and, as he was leaving with this lady, he goes _‘we’re gonna do it.’_ Like—Like some kind of nerd.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “A _‘nerd?’_ ”

“That’s the only word I could think of, okay?”

“All right, all right.” She said, crossing her arms. “So, what do we do?”

 

Sam—or at least, Gary, the teenage kid whose body he was currently stuck in—struggled against the ropes holding him. It was no use, his body was scrawny and weak. He looked up when Trevor walked past him, a cell phone in his hand. “Hey!” He shouted, voice cracking a bit. “What the hell’s going on?”

“You can scream all you want.” Trevor said, raising his voice. “No one can hear you! My parents are out of town!” Gary’s other friend, Nora, stood nervously behind Trevor. He put the phone back to his ear when someone answered. “Gary.”

“T. What’s up?”

Sam raised his head when he heard his own voice coming from the phone. Trevor turned away from him. “Where are you?”

“Uh, I can’t really tell you right now, but, man, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Well, where are they?”

“Dean and Jaime, uh... The Cloverleaf on route six, why?”

“Wh—You mean you haven’t killed them yet?”

“What?” Sam said. “Wait, wait, wait, wait—what do you mean? Kill them?”

“I, uh... I’m building up to it.”

Trevor rolled his eyes when Gary—the real one, occupying Sam’s body—stuttered over the line. “Look, Gary, we got problems here. For one,” He glanced at Sam again, “I’m lookin’ at your body right now, with this other dude in it.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he’s been in your house, hangin’ out with your parents.”

“Okay, just...calm down. Whatever he says, no one’s gonna believe him, right?” Trevor and Nora exchanged looks as Gary spoke. “W—We’re still good.”

“Would you just hurry up and kill those two before anything else happens?”

“Don’t rush me, I’ll do it.” Sam’s voice sounded irritated, and the real Sam looked back and forth between the two teenagers.

“Yeah, you better.”

The line went quiet for a moment, and Sam heard his voice say, “Gotta go,” before Gary hung up.

Trevor shook his head as he put the phone in his pocket. “I don’t think he’s gonna do it.”

“Just relax.” Nora said. “This is _Gary_ we’re talking about.”

“What the hell is goin’ on here?” Sam demanded. “How do you know who Dean is—who _Jaime_ is?”

“Everybody knows who they are.” Trevor stated, walking towards Sam. “Dean is _‘Hell’s Most Wanted,’_ and they want Jaime, too.”

“ _’They?’_ ” Sam’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh, no... Have you idiots been talking to demons?”

“Oh, right, _we’re_ the idiots.”

Sam sighed. “You’re just kids. You have no idea what you’re messing with.”

“Well, we know there’s a price on both their heads, and we’re the ones that are gonna collect.”

“What’s the supposed to mean?”

Nora stepped forward. “About a month ago, we were down here—“

“Nora.”

“What?” She said, turning to Trevor. “We’re not allowed to talk about him?” Trevor glared at her, but didn’t say anything. She continued. “We were down here, goofing around with the book.”

“Uhm, I wouldn’t exactly call praying to our dark overlord _‘goofing around.’_ ”

“Don’t be a loser, Trev.”

“Yeah, Trev.” Trevor glared at Sam.

“Anyway,” Nora walked over to where the demonic book rested on the counter, “all of a sudden, the lights flickered and Gary went into this weird trance.” She opened the book and pulled out two sheets of paper from between the pages. “He closed his eyes, picked up a pencil, and drew these.” Sam looked at the papers, and his eyes widened. On one of them was a headshot of Dean, and the other had Jaime’s name scrawled all over it. “He said he heard a voice in his head. That the demons were putting bounties on these two.”

“A bounty?”

“Yeah, to, like, every witch or Satanist across the country.” Nora said, smiling. “But Gary... Gary’s the one who spotted you.

“And the _‘Freaky Friday’_ crap?”

“Another spell from the book. Gary’s idea—go in Trojan-horse style.” She kept smiling, then added, “He’s really smart.”

“That is, if he has the beanbags to go through with it.” Trevor interrupted. Nora turned to him, frowning.

“Listen to me,” Sam said, “you’re making a terrible mistake. We’re talking about a _demon_ deal—killing people. This isn’t a game. You’re crossing a line you won’t come back from. Believe me.”

Nora’s face fell as he spoke, and she turned to Trevor in alarm. “What?”

“Nothing, I—I...” She sighed, moving away from Trevor.

“Nora, don’t tell me you’re actually listening to this jerk.”

“I don’t know, m—maybe. I—I mean, what if he has a point?”

“I don’t believe this. First Gary, now you? I can’t...” Nora looked away from him. “You know what? Fine.”

He turned away from Nora and Sam and went to grab the book. Nora followed him. “What, you’re gonna—you’re gonna go kill them yourself, tough guy?”

“Don’t have to.” He said as he faced them, holding the book open in his hands. The page it was on was written in Latin, with a picture of a skull with twisted ram-like horns. In the upper-right corner were the words _‘demon summoning.’_ “I can do this.”

Nora’s eyes widened. “N—No, no, you can’t be serious—“

“I’m callin’ up one of these bad boys, turning these punks over, and gettin’ paid.” He grinned. “Dolla, dolla bills, y’all!”

“I—I really don’t think that’s a good idea!”

“It’s not.” Sam said from behind them. “It’s a very, very _bad_ idea.”

“No one asked you.” Trevor said. Nora gave him a pleading look, but he ignored it as he prepared the spell. Sam grit his teeth as he struggled with the ropes again.

 

Sam quietly entered the motel room and locked the door behind him. It was dark, but he could see the outline of someone asleep on the bed as he got closer. He moved over to the couch, grabbing Dean’s pistol from off the cushion. He got closer and pointed the gun at the sleeping figure, pulling back the hammer and biting his lip as he readied himself to shoot.

Something was suddenly standing beside him, and a fist connected with his face. Sam grunted in pain as the figure grabbed his wrists tight, making him drop the gun. He was yanked forward and was face-to-face with Dean Winchester.

“You’re not Sam.” He said. Sam glanced at the bed. Jaime sat up, her own pistol pointed at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Okay, first off, _ow!_ ” Dean’s eyes narrowed as he jerked his brother—or whoever he was—over to the other side of the room. He protested when he was shoved into a chair, but went silent when a gun was in his face.

Jaime stood in front of him as Dean went to his duffel bag to grab something, returning with some rope. He told Sam to stay still as he tied him to the chair and moved to stand next to Jaime when he finished, taking the gun from her. “Who are you?” He asked again. “And don’t lie to me, ‘cause it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve shot at my brother.”

He clicked the hammer for emphasis, and Sam froze. “Oh, my God—okay, okay!” He swallowed, staring down the barrel of the gun. “My—My name’s Gary, I g—go to Berkshire Meadows Private High School, my favorite video game is Halo, and I—and I’m allergic to wheat gluten!”

Dean raised a brow at the nonsense spilling out of Sam’s—out of Gary’s—mouth. “That’s... That’s a little more than I wanted.”

“What’d you do with our cell phones?”

“I—I threw them away.” He admitted. “If you didn’t have your phones, then Sam couldn’t call you.”

“Why were you trying to kill us?”

“The demons... They said Dean Winchester was wanted by Hell, and that they wanted Jaime, too.” He looked between them. “They said we—we’d get a reward if you were killed.

“And you believed them?” Gary shrugged, and Dean lowered the gun. “Crap.” He muttered, turning to Jaime and handing her the gun. “Keep an eye on him.”

He walked over to the nightstand and picked up the motel phone, frowning at Gary as he dialed a number and listened to the line ringing. “ _’You have thirty-eight messages.’_ ” Dean pressed a button, and a _beep_ was heard. “ _’Dean, I’ve called every phone we’ve got.’_ ” Jaime looked back as a young voice came through the receiver. “ _’Where are you, man? Listen, this is gonna sound crazy—really crazy—but, uhm... I think I’m in the wrong body.’_ ” There was a cracked chuckle, and Dean hit the button again. _Beep._ “ _’Dean, the guy right next to you is not me!’_ ” He looked at Gary, who grew more and more nervous as the message continued. _Beep._ “ _’Dean, check your friggin’ voicemail. Damn it.’_ ”

“Was that Sam?” Jaime asked.

Dean nodded as he hung up the phone. “All right, pal.” He rounded on Gary, who turned his head away. “Either you start talkin’ or I start waterboardin’.”

“Oh, my God, please, don’t hurt me.” He pleaded, turning to Jaime. “Please, please don’t let him hurt me. Please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, pull it together, champ.” Dean put a hand on Gary’s shoulder. He jolted and tried to pull away.

“I don’t wanna die, I—I don’t wanna die.”

“Just tell us where Sam is.”

“In my—my friend’s basement. His parents are out of town.”

“Parents?” Dean and Jaime said together. Gary nodded, and Dean shifted on his feet. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen? Huh.“

Dean was suddenly thrown to the side of the motel room. He slammed against a mounted mirror, breaking it, and fell to the floor. He groaned in pain, rolling onto his back before passing out. “Dean!” Jaime shouted, moving towards him. She suddenly flew backwards, and picture frames fell to the floor when she hit the wall. She gave a pained hiss as she stayed pinned there, and she saw an unknown, teenager girl standing in the room. “Who are you?”

The girl smiled as she approached Gary. “Nora?”

She moved and leaned down to be eye-level with him. She blinked, and her eyes went black. “Not at the moment.”

Jaime struggled against the force holding her to the wall. She looked at Dean on the floor, still unconscious, and when she looked forward again, Nora was standing in front of her. She gasped, and the demon smirked as she reached up and gripped Jaime’s face in her hand.

“So, you’re God’s vessel.” She said, turning Jaime’s face to the side. “Hm. You’re kind of laughable.” She chuckled, then looked back at Gary, still tied to the chair. She hummed, then gave Jaime a sharp pat on the cheek. “Stay here.”

Nora moved over to the teenage boy, stepping behind him and untying the ropes. Jaime glared at her. “What are you—“

“Shut up.” She waved her hand, and Jaime grit her teeth as a sharp, quick pain rushed through her body. “Boy, you earned your dessert tonight, kiddo. Tell me,” She said, finishing her work on the ropes, “what is it you want? Anything.”

“Anything?” Gary repeated.

“Lay it on me.”

Gary, don’t—“

“I wanna be a witch. For real.” He said, ignoring Jaime and standing. “And really powerful.”

“Good choice.” Gary smiled proudly. “I get it. No daddy, no M.I.T., no plan...” She turned away from him and walked over to Dean, looking down at him. “You get to be big and strong, and no one can tell you what to do anymore. There’s just one, small formality first.” She grinned, turning back to Gary. “You gotta meet the boss.”

“The boss?”

“You know—your satanic majesty, or whatever the kids are calling him these days.”

Jaime’s eyes widened. “Lucifer.”

Nora looked back at her, grinning. “You got it, vessel.”

“Uh... No, o—okay, uhm...” Gary hesitated, and Nora frowned at him. “It’s okay, I...don’t really wanna bother him.”

Jaime noticed movement on the floor. Dean slowly sat up, and he watched the demon as he stood. He pulled out a knife from his jacket, and put a finger to his lips as he crept towards her.

“Oh, but he’s gonna want to meet you.” The demon said. “It’ll be easy. He’s just gonna ask you one little question, and all you gotta do is say ‘yes.’ Then, you’ll get your reward.”

Dean swung the knife down. The demon moved fast, and she turned and caught his arm. She twisted him around and shoved him to the ground. He landed with a grunt, and her foot connected with his side. Distracted by the hunter, the demon’s hold on Jaime went away, and she fell to the ground. Jaime gasped once free, clutching her chest. She watched Dean’s face screw up in pain as Nora kicked him over and over, and she turned to Gary. “Help him!”

“What? N—No, I can’t—“

“Help him!” She shouted again, voice booming.

Gary flinched and looked down at Dean. The hunter stared at him, then squeezed his eyes shut as he was kicked again. Gary swallowed. “ _Exorcizamus te, omni immundus._ ”

Nora stopped, whipping around with wide, angry eyes. “What was that?”

“Uh, nothing.”

“Were you trying to _exorcise_ me, you little piece of crap!?” She screamed as she stalked towards Gary. She kicked a chair out of her way, and Jaime watched as her hand gripped Gary’s neck, lifting him off the ground. He grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her away.

“ _Spiritus, omnis satanica potestas._ ” A voice came from behind them. Jaime turned to see Dean swaying, but standing, on his feet.

Nora turned to him, dropping Gary. He stepped away from her, continuing the incantation. “ _Omnis incursio infernalis adversii._ ”

The demon bared her teeth as she stopped, suddenly unable to move from between the two. “ _Omnis congregatio._ ”

“ _Et secta diabolica._ ”

“ _Ergo, draco maledicte._ ”

“ _Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire._ ” Nora’s head fell back as Gary and Dean swapped lines.

“ _Te rogamus. Adios,_ bitch!”

“Uh, it’s _‘audi nos.’_ ”

The demon screamed as black smoke poured from her mouth, and she fell to her knees. Dean closed his eyes, still in pain, and Gary watched as the funnel of smoke escaped through an air vent. Nora collapsed to the ground. Jaime stared at the unconscious girl, then looked at Dean, then the both of them turned to Gary. He nodded at them, a satisfied grin on his face.

Dean frowned as he stepped towards him, a hand on his stomach and his eyes filled with anger. “Go get Sam.

 

Thirty minutes later, they found Sam—the real Sam—and brought him back to the motel. Nora had woken up by then, and Jaime gave her a blanket as she sat on the bed. Gary set-up the reversal spell, and he and Sam sat across from each other on the floor. Everyone else watched and waited.

“ _Anima domum redeant. Fas atque nefas instauretur. Potestate et auctoriate, sic fiat._ ” Gary dropped some powder into the bowl in front of him.

A bright light filled the room, and Jaime closed her eyes to block it out. It faded in a matter of seconds, and when she opened her eyes, it didn’t look like anything had changed. Whoever was in Sam’s body looked down at Sam’s hands, then stood and ran to the mirror on the wall. He sighed, and Dean stepped forward.

“So, we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Sam said. “Oh, man, it’s nice to be back.”

“Yeah, awesome.” Gary muttered as he stood.

“So,” Dean cleared his throat, “Gary.”

“Yeah, I know, my bad.”

“Kid, _‘my bad’_ ain’t gonna cut it.” Dean’s hands clenched into fists as he restrained himself. “See, if you were of voting age, you’d be dead. Because we would kill you.” Gary turned to Sam and Jaime. They shrugged. “So, either you straighten up and fly right, or we _will_ kill you. Are we clear?”

The teenager nodded. “Crystal.”

“Good.”

 

It had started to rain during the drive to Gary’s house. No one said a word. Dean pulled into the driveway, and everyone exited the car. Gary looked at his house and sighed. “Crap.”

“Gary, look,” Sam sighed, “take it from someone who knows—chin up, man. Your life ain’t that bad.”

“Uh, you met my parents.”

“Yeah, so what?” He said. “It’s _your_ life. You don’t like their plan for you, tell them to cram it. Rebel a little bit, in a healthy, non-satanic way, of course.” Sam looked to where Dean and Nora were waiting on the other side of the car. He waved, and Nora waved back.

Jaime stood next to the teenage boy. “Gary, you wanna know why Nora’s into witchcraft?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not ‘cause she likes Satan, it’s ‘cause she likes _you._ ”

Gary’s eyes widened. “Really?” He smiled. “You think?”

“Duh.”

“I’m telling you, kid,” Sam sighed, “I wish I had your life.”

“You do?” Gary asked, surprised. “Well, thanks.”

“Yeah, get outta here.” The younger Winchester smiled as he gave Gary a pat on the back.

Dean and Jaime watched the teenagers head inside, and Dean turned to his brother. “That was a nice thing to say.”

Sam nodded. “I totally lied. That kid’s life sucked ass.” Jaime chuckled as they got back in the Impala. “All that apple-pie, family crap? It’s stressful. Trust me—we didn’t miss a damn thing.”

“Or we don’t know what we’re missin’.” Dean said, and Sam went quiet. The older Winchester turned to Jaime in the backseat. “Was your life like that before all this?”

Jaime laughed and shook her head. “No way. That kid was a _huge nerd._ I went to tech school, and I wasn’t even that big of a nerd.”

The brothers chuckled from the front seat as Dean started the car. An old rock song played from the speakers, and Sam frowned. “Oh, c’mon, man. Turn it down.”

“Welcome back, Kotter.” Dean frowned as he turned the volume down. Jaime bobbed her head to the music as they backed out of the driveway and drove out of town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is. a mess. 8')  
> again, another chapter that i didn't really have motivation for, but ended up writing anyway because i caNT LEAVE IT OUT OF THE FIC  
> it's more of a going-through-the-motions kind of fic, so there's not much character development or anything like that. im super not happy about this one but it's just gonna have to do.  
> IT'S OKAY IF YOU HATE THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE I KIND OF REALLY HATE IT TOO  
> song used for the title is 'Young and Realistic' by The Faint


	8. Hey There, Lonely Girl

**GREENVILLE, FLORIDA — FEB. 13, 2010**

Jaime woke up when the person sleeping next to her quickly sat up. She turned over and saw Dean, eyes wide. “Dean?” She turned on the light beside the bed. The clock on the nightstand read _11:51 p.m._ “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer her and continued to stare at the far wall, breathing heavily. He threw the covers off his body and walked over to his brother, asleep on the other bed. Sam jerked awake when Dean slapped his leg. “What—What’s wrong?” He asked, slightly panicked.

“I had a dream.” Sam gave him a look. “No! No, not like that. It was... Anna was there.” Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “She said she had something to tell me—gave me an address, said it was urgent.”

“Should we call Cas?” Dean sighed, shaking his head some. “We haven’t seen her in, like, a year, Dean. We don’t know if she’s still on our side or not.”

Dean hesitated. “Yeah, okay.” He walked towards the bathroom, but stopped and turned to Jaime. “Hey, uh... You can go back to sleep, if you want.”

“No, I’m awake now.” She said, getting out of bed and pulling Dean’s over-sized band down her torso a bit. He turned back to the bathroom, locking the door once inside. Jaime turned to Sam. “Who’s Anna?”

“Angel.”.

“Oh.”

 

**FEB. 14, 2010**

“Sam Winchester has to die.” Anna said, eyes locked with Castiel’s. “I am sorry, but we have no choice. He’s Lucifer’s vessel.”

“He’s not the only one.” Castiel argued.

“What, that guy Nick? He’s burning away as we speak.” She shook her head. “No, Sam is the only vessel that matters. You know what that means. If Lucifer can’t take Sam, his whole plan short-circuits—no fight with Michael, no Croatoan virus, the Horsemen go back to their day jobs.”

“Even if you could kill Sam, Satan would just bring him back.”

“Not after I scatter his cells across the universe. They’ll never find him—not all of him.”

“We’ll find another way.”

“How’s that going?” She didn’t give him time to answer before she continued. “How’s the Colt working out? Or the search for God? I heard you found Him.”

“Yes.”

“But He’s trapped inside that vessel.”

“He isn’t _trapped,_ Anna.” He said. “The vessel—“

“Have you even talked to Him since you found Him?”

Castiel’s hands clenched into fists. “He’s not trapped, Anna. The vessel hasn’t allowed Him full control. You know He would never overpower the free will of humans; it’s the one choice He gifted them.”

“It doesn’t matter, Castiel.” She said. “He won’t be able to do anything, not with her as His vessel. If you want to stop the devil, this is how.”

“The answer is still no. Sam is my friend.”

Anna watched the other angel. “You’ve changed.”

“Maybe too late, but I have.” He sighed. “Anna, we’ve been through much together, but you come near Sam Winchester, and I’ll kill you.”

A beat of silence passed between them, before Anna disappeared.

 

Jaime stepped out of the bathroom, drying her damp red hair with the motel towel. She saw Castiel standing near the back of the room, and there were several bowls and jars on the table in front of him, filled with different kinds of powders and oils. “What’s going on?” She asked. “Weren’t we supposed to be meeting Anna?”

“It was a trap.” Castiel explained. “She was going to kill Sam. Not just that; she was planning on destroying him so that Lucifer would never be able to bring him back.

 _Whoa._ She turned to Sam, and he sighed. She moved to sit next to him on the bed.

Dean paced in front of them. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true.” Castiel said. He didn’t look up as he continued drawing whatever sigil he had been working on.

“So, she’s gone all Glenn Close, huh? That’s awesome.”

Castiel straightened up, eyes wide with interest. “Who’s Glenn Close?”

“No one, just this psycho bitch that likes to boil rabbits.” Dean said in a single breath.

Castiel set down the piece of chalk and picked up a bowl filled with red powder. “Would that actually stop the devil?” Jaime asked.

“Cas, what do you think?” Sam asked. Dean stopped pacing and shook his head. “Does Anna have a point?”

“No, Sam, come on.” Dean looked at his brother, then over to Castiel. The angel looked at them, before focusing on Sam.

“No, she’s a... _’Glenn Close.’_ ”

“I don’t get it. Why are we looking for the chick that wants to gank Sam?” Dean questioned. “Why poke the bear?”

“Anna will keep trying. She won’t give up until Sam is dead. So, we kill her first.”

Castiel poured a small vial of oil into a bowl in the center of the table and began to chant in a foreign language when he set it down. A red flame shot up from the bowl, and Castiel tipped backwards. He gripped the edge of the table to steady himself, eyes shut tight and breathing heavy. Jaime bit her lip as she watched him. After a few moments, Castiel looked up. “I found her.”

“Where is she?”

“Not where. When.” Castiel looked troubled. “It’s 1978.”

“What?” Sam said, surprised.

Jaime was just as confused. _Time travel? How’s that even possible?_

“Why 1978? I wasn’t even born yet.” Sam continued.

“You won’t be if she kills your parents.”

“What?”

“Anna can’t get to you because of me, so she’s going after them.”

“Take us back right now.” Dean demanded.

“And deliver you right to Anna?” He shook his head. “No, I should go alone.”

“They’re our parents, Cas—we’re going.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Time travel was difficult, even with the powers of Heaven at my disposal.”

“But you’re cut off.” Sam finished.

“So, what, you’re like a DeLorean without enough plutonium?”

Castiel sighed and turned to Dean. “I don’t understand that reference.” Jaime chuckled a little, and the angel narrowed his eyes at her. "I’m telling you, taking this trip—with passengers, no less,” He shook his head, “it’ll weaken me.”

Dean stepped towards Castiel. “They’re our mom and dad. If we can save them, and not just from Anna—if we can set things right, we have to try.”

The two stared at each other, before the angel sighed. “All right. But we need to prepare.”

Sam and Dean nodded and moved around the motel room, grabbing things they deemed good enough to bring with them. Jaime started to pack up a few of their weapons. She zipped the duffel bag shut, slung it over her shoulder, turned around and nearly ran into Castiel. “Uh... What’s up, Castiel?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m packing.” She gestured to the duffel bag.

“You’re not coming.”

“What? What do you mean, I wanna help!” She heard Sam scoff from across the room, and she glared at him. “What, Sam?”

“Nothing, it’s just kind of weird how you didn’t want anything to do with helping us yesterday. Now you’re totally game to go up against an angel.”

Her glare hardened. “I figured you would need extra hands.” She said, then added, “Plus, it’ll be kind of hard to stay safe if you guys are dead.”

“Stop it.” Castiel said, stepping between the two. “Jaime, this will be too dangerous—Anna will try to kill you, too.”

“What, why?”

“You’re the vessel of God, Jaime; the angels want you dead.” Her mouth fell open some. “You’re not supposed to be here, _He’s_ not supposed to be here.”

“Why would the angels want to kill me? Why would they want God dead?”

“They don't want _God_ dead, they want _you_ dead. No one had heard from God in aeons, all of Heaven thought He was gone. Then the apocalypse started, and we felt it—all of us. It...It was cold in Heaven when He left, when He came down to find His vessel—to find you.” Jaime looked away from him. “Many of us thought God didn’t care about anything anymore. We didn’t expect Him to act when Lucifer was freed. We didn’t expect you.”

“So...the angels want me dead because they don't want God to get in the way?”

“Yes. They believe the apocalypse is a matter for the angels, and only the angels. They think you’ll interfere with the destiny they believe has been written out for the world.”

“That... That’s _crazy._ ”

“It’s true.” Castiel said. “But that’s not my only reason for having you stay behind. Taking Sam and Dean will weaken me, but if I bring you with, I’m not sure I’ll be coming back.”

“You’re saying you could die?”

“It’s already a possibility that I may die on the trip without you. If you come with, I have no doubt that I _will_ die.”

Dean walked over to them. “Won’t she be in more danger if she stays here? What if another demon comes along, or, hell, even an angel?”

“I don’t think any of them know where God is, Dean."

“You don’t _think?_ ”

“It's true they felt him arrive on Earth, but I didn't know who or where He was until I found Jaime.”

Jaime thought for a moment, then said, “Like with Shannon.” Castiel and Dean looked down at her. “The... The demon I went to school with; the one that attacked me a few days after I met you. She said she could _smell_ Him. She knew He was here, but she didn’t know where until she got close enough.”

Castiel nodded. “You also left the room I warded, which was supposed to protect you. If you stay here, I can put up the warding again, that way no one can find you. You’ll be safe,” He said, then narrowed his eyes as he added, “as long as you don’t run away again.”

“I’ll stay put.” She frowned. “How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know. We may not be able to return for some time.”

Sam turned to Jaime. “Are you... Will you be all right by yourself?”

She raised a brow at him. “As long as I stay here, I guess.”

They all fell silent after that. Jaime helped them pack up the last of their things. She handed Castiel two jars filled with holy oil, and he put them inside a dark bag, sliding a long silver blade in with them. He zipped up the bag, and she smiled when he looked at her, heaving a sigh that moved her shoulders. He nodded, then turned to Sam and Dean. “Ready?”

Sam exhaled sharply, taking the bag from Castiel. “Not really.”

“Bend your knees.” Dean said.

“Good luck, you guys.” Jaime said. “Stay safe.”

The Winchesters sighed, and Castiel stared at her. She gave him a thumbs up, but he didn’t seem to understand. He turned back to Sam and Dean and reached out, placing two fingers on their foreheads. They both closed their eyes, and then they were gone.

Jaime looked around the now-empty motel room and sat back down on the bed. She rubbed her hands against her jeans, then turned to the clock. _2:51 a.m._ “Might as well go back to sleep.” She said. She changed out of her t-shirt, but kept her tank top on, and took off her and jeans and put on her sweatpants. She got underneath the covers and closed her eyes. When she finally fell asleep, it was just after three.

 

Sharp and quick knocking woke Jaime up. Her eyes snapped open, and she grabbed the pistol from underneath her pillow. She sat up and moved to stand, not taking her eyes off the door.

She had tossed and turned all night. She never slept well whenever she had to sleep alone, since she usually shared a bed with either Sam or Dean. It was an odd sense of security, but it made her feel safe knowing at least one of them was there. She didn’t know if that was a good thing.

The knocks continued, and Jaime slipped a black shirt over her tank-top. Whoever was at the door hadn’t done anything except knock, meaning it couldn’t have been anyone who worked at the motel. She walked towards the door, gun still in her hands, and peered through the peephole in the door. No one was there. She leaned away, confused.

Another few loud, hard knocks sounded, and Jaime stepped away from the door, hands shaking. _What the hell’s going on? Who is that—What is that?_ She swallowed as she stepped towards the door again. She unlocked it, but kept the chain lock latched. One hand still gripped the pistol as she opened the door as far as the chain would allow.

At eye level, she could see a green shirt underneath a gray button-up, rolled at the sleeves. Her brows knit together as she looked up at whoever it was. Pale-blue eyes bore into her own hazel-green, and a shiver ran down her spine. The stranger at the door was blonde, and he had a smirk on his slightly scruffy face. Jaime noticed what looked like burn wounds and blisters around the edges of his face.

He leaned against the doorway and tilted his head at her. “Hey, you.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her, his thrilled expression unchanging. In an instant, she knew who he was, and his smile grew as she whispered, “Lucifer.”

She moved to grip the door and slam it shut, pushing against the wood as hard as she could. The door swung back at her, the chain lock breaking into pieces, and the sheer force threw her to the floor. She gaped at Lucifer, still leaning against the frame. She crawled back on her hands, fumbling for the pistol that had flung away from her. She turned around and saw it on the carpet a few feet away from her, and she scrambled to stand and run for it.

Lucifer lifted a hand, waved two of his fingers, and Jaime was suddenly thrown against the side wall. She collided with the wall, and she groaned as she rolled onto her back. Her head dropped down, and she saw that her feet weren’t touching the floor.

“So,” He said, putting a finger to his mouth, “this is Father's vessel.” He walked inside, and the door swung shut behind him. “Hm... Not that impressive—a little shorter than what I imagined.”

Jaime took a sharp breath as she struggled against the force holding her up. It was much stronger than when Nora had done it, and she could feel her body fighting it. “Y—You’re—“

“The devil.” He took a step closer, smirking when he saw the woman tense. “Maybe you’ve heard of me? I’m pretty popular in that book you used to read in Sunday school.” Jaime looked at her arms as she tried to pull them away from the wall. “Oh, stop that. You won’t be able to get out, and even if you did, what are you gonna do—shoot me?” She looked at him, but said nothing. “That’s what I thought.”

“How did you find me?” She asked. He walked over to one of the beds and sat down, leaning back on his hands and crossing his ankles. “Castiel said he—he warded this place, he told me that—“

“What my brother said is true.” He interrupted. “I had a hard time finding you—and you’re a tough one to find, tougher than Sam.” He shook his finger, as if scolding her. “But I’ve got eyes everywhere. Eyes that happened to see you with the Winchesters at this motel.” He stopped, lowering his hand and looking around the room. “But they don’t seem to be here. They left you—the vessel of God—all alone. Served you to me on a silver platter.”

“But the warding—“

“—Is that of a lower angel.” He tilted his head against his shoulder, blue eyes leering at her. “I’m an archangel, vessel. There are things I can do that Castiel and most others can’t, including getting rid of a few warding spells.” His eyes remained on her, watching as she struggled to get free again. “So, what’s your name?”

“Let me go.”

“Now, that can’t be your real name,” He lifted a hand and pointed at her, “can it?”

Her mouth opened as she grunted in pain, squeezing her eyes shut. Pain shot up her spine, and her hands clenched into fists. “J—Jaime!” She cried out. He lowered his hand, and the pain stopped. She slumped forward as she took deep breaths. “My... My name’s Jaime.”

“Jaime.” She shivered as her name rolled off his tongue, and he smiled at her. “I like it. But, back to your previous statement; why on Earth do you think I’d let you go?”

“Uh, I...” Her eyes narrowed, confused. “Because I’m...God? And you don’t wanna kill me, 'cause you might...kill God?”

Lucifer’s head fell back as he chuckled. “You’re not my Father.” He stood up and walked towards her. “You’re just some human He took as a meat suit.” She tried to move away when he leaned against the wall beside he. “You know, I thought Dad would choose someone different this time—someone important. Maybe one of the prophets, or even a priest, but you?” He clicked his tongue. “There’s nothing special about you, is there? You’re just some girl who got caught up in this mess of an apocalypse.”

“Why are you here?”

“I can’t come say hello to my Dad?”

She scoffed and muttered, “Good luck.”

“Well, now, why do you say that?”

“You can’t talk to Him. No one can; _I_ can’t even talk to Him.”

“I’m sure with enough,” His eyes flashed down her body, “ _persuasion,_ I can at least leave a message.” Jaime's eyes narrowed as she tried to break free of his hold once again. “Why did He choose you?”

“What?”

“Why did God choose you?”

“I don’t—“

“Seven billion humans on this dismal, sickening planet—some of which _must_ have been better candidates—yet He chose you; a woman with _nothing_ to offer.” The corner of his mouth tilted up into a smirk, and Jaime didn't face him as he continued. “You ask yourself that every day, don’t you? There must have been a reason, right? God wouldn’t have picked some random human, would He? But I just...” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just don’t see whatever it is He saw in you. You’re useless, Jaime.” 

She stopped moving, and his smirk widened. “I know you know it’s true. And you know what else—they do, too. Sam, Dean, Castiel—they know you’re not worth keeping around. You don’t mean anything to them; you’re not even supposed to be here. Why should they be stuck taking care of some girl who shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place?” He moved to stand in front of her and reached up, putting a hand on her cheek and turning her face towards him. His hand was cold, and she lifted her head away. He put both of his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. “You can’t do anything. You can’t help anyone, much less yourself. You know it’s true, Jaime. You’re useless, _nothing._ ”

“That’s not true.“

“Don’t waste your breath trying to convince me I’m wrong, Jaime—it’s pathetic.” He gently brushed a thumb over her cheekbone. “You’re just a waste of everyone’s time. Sam and Dean would be better off without you. That pretty angel brother of mine would have one less thing to worry about if you weren’t here. I bet they’re starting to doubt if you even have God inside you. They think about how they’d rather leave you—defenseless—on the side of the road than waste another day, trying to keep you safe. And I say _‘trying’_ because of obvious reasons.”

Jaime jerked her head away from him, and he stepped back as she tried once again to get off the wall. She looked down at her legs, watching as her knees bent forward then snapped back to the wall. She looked at her arms, watching them shake as she tried pulling them forward. She gave a short huff and closed her eyes, bumping the back of her head against the wall in frustration.

“I wonder what would happen if I killed you?” Her breath caught in her throat as she opened her eyes and stared at Lucifer. “I mean, it’d give me one less thing to worry about—with you, and God, out of the picture.” He put a finger to his lips, tapping thoughtfully. “Actually, I’m not even sure if He _can_ die. We all thought He was dead for so long, but now... Hm. Maybe He’ll bring you back, which means I’ll just have to keep killing you until you both stay dead.”

She looked away from the devil and scanned the room, searching for something—anything—that could help her. She grew more panicked with each passing second, but then a sudden and tremendous pain tore through her chest and flooded her body. Her mouth fell open as she cried out, and she squeezed her eyes shut as her body ached. Her fingernails dug into her palms as she did her best to bear through the immense pain. Then, as quickly as it came, it faded; her head fell forward, and her chest heaved as she gasped, her entire body shaking. _What the hell was that?_

"What’s the matter, Jaime? Not feelin’ so hot?”

“I...” She panted, barely able to lift her head to look at the devil. “N—No, I’m—“

“Feels like someone _ripped_ your heart from your chest? That’s God.” Her eyes widened. “That pain you’re feeling? That’s Him mourning the loss of one of us kiddos.”

“An angel...” _That pain, the sadness I felt... God is sad._ “An angel just died?”

“Mhmm. Hurts, don’t it? And you know what, if you stay His vessel, you’re gonna feel that every single time one of us bites the dust. And with the way things are playing out, I think that’s gonna be happening _a lot._ It’s not gonna go away unless He leaves you.” His mouth fell open in an enlightened gasp, and he turned quickly, slamming his hands on either side of her head. “I just had a thought. Maybe the angel that died was Castiel.”

“What?”

“Without him, Sam and Dean can’t come back. And without them, you’ve got no one to protect you. You’re up for grabs, aren’t you, vessel?”

He leaned in close, but Jaime turned her away. A sharp pain shot through her body—different than the one she just felt—and she groaned as she grit her teeth. Lucifer smiled as he watched her writhe under his influence. “Please...! Please, stop!”

His nails scraped against the wall beside her head. the pain became worse, and she squeezed her eyes shut. _Help me! I know you can hear me, please!_ She begged. _I’ll let you in, please, make him stop! I don’t wanna die, I wanna help them—please!_

_Jaime._

Her eyes snapped open as everything stopped. Her body began to glow, and the same immense light shone out of her mouth and eyes. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed as he stepped back, a hand shielding his eyes as the light filled the room. A high-pitched whine rang out, and he winced as the sound filled his ears. After a moment, both the light and whine faded. The devil lowered his hand and looked at the woman, taking a surprised breath when he saw she wasn't against the wall anymore. Her eyes glowed with a fierce, holy light, and he knew it wasn’t Jaime looking back at him.

“Hey, Dad.” Jaime stepped towards him, but moved away. “Here to scold me?” She remained silent, standing tall with narrow eyes and her mouth set in a thin line.

In an instant, she was in front of him and pressed a hand against the center of his chest. Lucifer grunted, unable to move, and grabbed her arm. He tried to pull away from her, but she didn't budge, eyes burning with the light. The devil tipped his head back as he hissed through his teeth, pain coursing through his body. His hands started to burn Jaime’s arm where they held her.

She yanked her hand away, and he stumbled back a few steps. He reached up to clutch at the front of his shirt, where she had touched him, and frowned at the smell of burned flesh. He looked at her arm, noticing the burn in the shape of his hand was already healing, before he raised his head to lock eyes with her.

“You want me to back off, is that it? Leave your vessel alone?” He asked, not speaking to her, but to the one currently in control. “I don't think I can do that—doesn't really seem fun.” She stared at him, and his eyes narrowed. “You’re bluffing; you wouldn’t.” It was quiet between them before Lucifer looked away from her first. Jaime remained impassive as he scoffed out, “Fine.”

Jaime tilted her head back as her body began to glow with the same light as before, mouth and eyes open wide. She gasped loudly as her body went limp, and she fell to the floor. Or she would have, if Lucifer hadn’t stepped forward and caught her. The divine glow faded from her body as she leaned against his arm, and he gripped her upper-arm while his other hand held her back.

She groaned as her coughs became more rough, and she turned to the side as she clutched her throbbing head. Opening her eyes hurt, but she managed to do it, only to see a strange burn on her arm that hadn’t been there before. _What?_ She stared at her arm, then realized someone was hold her. She turned, and her eyes widened at the devil.

“You... Get—Get away from me!” She protested, voice gruff from coughing. She weakly pushed herself away, and he let go of her. She tried to step back, but her legs gave out, and he grabbed her and pulled her back to him. Her burned arm was pressed between them, and she glared as she tried to push away again. “Get off... I don’t—Don’t touch me, you...” She hung her head, out of breath and too exhausted to continue fighting him.

Lucifer watched her, brow arched, before he lowered his head. Jaime tried to lean away, but he reached up and held the back of her head, forcing her to look at him. In a single movement, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, hard and rough. She gasped, opening her mouth and accidentally deepening the kiss, and tugged at his shirt to pull him off of her.

Strange feelings moved throughout her body. An unmistakable feeling of pain—as if every part of her was being stabbed over and over again—and a distinctive feeling of pleasure—as if she were stepping into a comforting warmth that enveloped her completely. He smirked against her lips as she pounded against his chest.

He broke the kiss with a satisfied sound, and Jaime stared up at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, her warm breath fanning his face. He chuckled and shoved her away from him. She stumbled back, hitting the table and using her trembling arms to keep herself from falling. She faced away from the devil, but her cheeks were burning. “What... Wh—Why did you—“

“You should learn how to protect yourself, Jaime.” He said, putting his hands in his pockets. She didn't look at him, but her eyes narrowed, confused. “Maybe then you won't have to rely on others to keep you safe all the time.”

Then he was gone. Jaime stared at where he had been standing, before she collapsed to the ground and backed up against the table. Her eyes were open wide, and her chest heaved with each breath she took.

 

**LAWRENCE, KANSAS — JUNE 17, 1978**

“Well, I’d say this conversation is long overdue, wouldn’t you?”

“Fix him.” Dean ordered, pointing down at Sam.

The archangel Michael, currently possessing the body of a young John Winchester, lifted a hand to silence Dean. “First, we talk.” He glanced down at Sam’s lifeless body, then at the metal rod sticking out of his torso. “Then I fix your darling little Sammy.”

“How’d you get in my dad, anyway?”

“I told him I could save his wife, and he said yes.”

“I guess they oversold me on being your one and only vessel.”

“You’re my _true vessel,_ but not my only one.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a bloodline.” Michael explained. “Stretching back to Cain and Abel. It’s in your blood, your father’s blood, you’re family’s blood.”

“Awesome." Dean muttered. "Six degrees of Heaven bacon; what do you want with me?”

“You _really_ don’t know the answer to that?”

“Well, you know I ain’t gonna say yes, so why are you here?” Michael went silent, and Dean stepped away from the angel when he moved forward. “What do you want with me!?”

“I just want you to understand what you and I have to do.”

“Oh, I get it. You got beef with your brother. Well, get some therapy, pal; don’t take it out on my planet!”

“You’re wrong.” Michael said. “Lucifer defied our father, and he betrayed me. But still, I don’t want this anymore than you would want to kill Sam.” The angel moved away from Dean and looked down at Sam again. “You know, my brother... I practically raised him. I took care of him in a way most people could never understand, and I still love him. But I am going to kill him because it is right, and I have to.”

“So, you’re just gonna do this because God said so?”

“Yes. From the beginning, He knew how this would end.”

“And you just do whatever Daddy says? Did He tell you to kill Jaime; is that why the angels want her dead?" He challenged, and the archangel looked away from him. “Why would He leave Heaven, come to Earth, and take a vessel if He knew the world was gonna end? To—To what, get in the way of this so-called _big plan_ you all believe in? If everyone thought He was gone, why are you all wanting Him gone now that He's here? Taking a vessel, just to get killed a month in, sounds like a pretty dumbass idea, if you ask me!”

“No,” Michael said, “my Father knew what He was doing when He took the vessel. Angels... We don’t know why He did it, but it’s not our place to question Him. Make no mistake, Dean, He did it for a reason. Ever think He might want a front row seat to the apocalypse?” Dean's shoulders heaved in a sigh as he shook his head. “I have no interest in that vessel, not unless she proves troublesome to what's been planned out. But it won’t change anything, Dean. I am going to obey my Father, because I am a good son.”

Dean chuckled. “Trust me, pal—take it from someone who knows—that’s a dead-end street.”

“You think you know better than my Father?” He stepped closer to the hunter. “One unimportant little man—what makes you think you get to choose?”

“Because I gotta believe that I can choose what I do with my...unimportant little life.”

“You’re wrong. You know how I know?” He looked down at the young, unconscious Mary Winchester on the floor. “Think of a million random acts of chance that let John and Mary be born, meet, fall in love, and have the two of you. Think of the million random chances you make, and yet how each and every one of them bring you closer to your destiny. Do you know why that is? It’s not random or chance; it’s a plan that is playing itself out perfectly." The archangel faced the hunter. "Free will is an illusion, Dean. That’s why you’re going to say yes. That’s why the apocalypse will happen.”

Dean shook his head again. “That’s not true; God wouldn’t just—just _ignore_ free will... No. No, you’re wrong.”

“Really?" Michael grinned. "Then why don’t you go ask Him and find out the truth.” Dean raised a brow, but the archangel continued. “Don’t worry, Dean—it could be worse. Unlike my brothers, I won’t leave you a drooling mess when I’m done wearing you.”

“What about my dad?”

“Better than new. In fact, I’m gonna do your mom and your dad a favor.”

Dean hesitated before he asked in an apprehensive voice, “What?”

“Scrub their minds. They won’t remember me or you.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I’m just giving your mother what she wants. She can go back to her husband, her family—“

“She’s gonna walk right into that nursery!”

“Obviously. You always knew that it was going to play out one way or another.” Dean looked down to the floor, face pleading and eyes moving around anxiously. He didn't know what to do, and Michael smiled back at him. “You can’t fight City Hall.”

The archangel moved over to Sam. He crouched in front of the dead man, reached out, and placed two fingers against his temple. In a flash, Sam vanished. The pipe that the now-dead Anna had killed him with clattered to the floor.

“He’s home, safe and sound.” He told the older Winchester and adjusted the collar of his jacket. “I’ll see you soon, Dean.” He glared at the angel, then squeezed his eyes shut as two fingers touched his forehead.

 

**GREENVILLE, FLORIDA — FEB. 14, 2010**

It was after twelve when Sam came back. Jaime sat on the bed, fully dressed, staring at the gun she hadn’t been able to use on Lucifer. _‘Protect myself’, he says—I’m trying to! I want to, but I just..._ She huffed and tossed the gun onto the bed. She flopped back on the mattress and frowned up at the ceiling, lifting a hand and touching her lips. _Why did he...kiss me; what was the point? Nothing happened, it just hurt...but it didn't._ She groaned and pressed her hands over her eyes. _This apocalypse crap is just too much._

A soft _whoosh_ and a gentle wind went through the motel room, and Jaime looked through her fingers to see Sam falling towards her. She squeaked and rolled onto the floor as he collapsed on the bed. She pushed herself up and crawled over to him. “Sam?” There was blood on his lips and clothes, and she started to shake him, panicking a bit. “Sam, are you okay? Can you hear me? Sam!”

He suddenly took a deep breath and shot up on the bed. His arms flailed wildly, as if fighting to protect himself, but he stopped when he saw Jaime crouching below him. “J—Jaime, I... What...?” He looked around the motel room.

“You just showed up outta nowhere. Like, just now. You almost crushed me.”

“Oh, uh... Sorry.”

“Where’s Dean?”

“He’s not back?” She shook her head, and he hummed as an answer. She assumed the other brother was still in 1978.

“So, what happened?” She asked. Sam grunted as he held his torso, and she noticed a large amount fresh blood dampening the front of his flannel, around his stomach. “Did you... Did you save your parents?”

“I don’t know. I think so, but...” He sighed and shook his head. “I met them, my parents. My mom,” He paused, smiling fondly, “she was beautiful.” Jaime smiled, too. “We fought Anna. She tried to kill us, and she... She actually killed me.”

“What?” Her eyes went wide. “How’s that... How are you here; how are you even _alive?_ ”

“I don’t know.” Sam started to stand on his feet. He hissed in pain and stopped, and Jaime moved forward to help him. He rested an arm across her shoulders, leaning on her as she walked him to the bathroom.

 

It was just after one o’clock when Dean came back. Sam had changed out of his bloody clothes and went to get food for the both of them. Jaime hadn’t been able to finish her meal, and she put it away in the fridge. When she shut the door, she heard the same _whoosh_ and felt the same wind from earlier. She turned and ran into something solid, jumping back against the fridge and yelping in surprise. She heard Sam’s chair scrape against the carpet as he stood.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—it’s me, Sam, relax!” A familiar voice said.

Dean held his hands out in front of him, and Jaime gasped. “Dean!” She and Sam called out. “Where have you been?”

The hunter walked past her and pulled his brother in for a hug. Sam and Jaime exchanged looks over his shoulder. “You’re okay? Everything good?”

“Yeah, Dean, I’m fine.” Sam said. “Are _you_ okay?”

Dean went quiet, staring at Sam for a moment before turning to Jaime. “Yeah,” He said, “yeah, I’m good.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Cas?”

“He hasn’t come back yet.” Jaime answered. “Sam got here, like, half an hour before you showed up.”

“Half an hour?” Dean said before he gave an exasperated sigh. “Man, time travel’s weird.”

“Yeah.” Sam agreed.

Jaime moved over to the drawer between the beds, opening it and pulling out the book inside. Sam and Dean had started talking to each other, and she sat down on the bed, crossed her legs, and started to read. After what felt like ten minutes—when in reality, it had only been three—she looked up from the book. Dean stared at her. “What?” She said, closing the book. “I don't have anything else to do..”

Dean walked over and snatched the book from her, and she frowned when he took it. He turned it over and read the cover— _‘Holy Bible.’_ “This isn’t the cure for boredom, kid.” He said, opening the drawer and tossing the bible back inside “C’mon, I’ll let you look at some case files.”

“Ooh, how fun. Bloody bodies and dead people—my favorite things.” She heard Sam chuckle.

“Yeah, aren’t they great?” Dean rummaged through one of his bags, pulling out a few manila folders and setting them in front of her. “Here; you can pick out the next case.”

“Seriously?” Jaime looked up at him, eyes wide. He smiled at her and nodded. “Thanks.”

 

It was almost four when Castiel came back. Jaime had finished washing her hands in the bathroom sink and drying them off on the towel rack. She opened the bathroom door and took three steps forward, before a pair of slacks and dress shoes were in her field of vision. She let out a small gasp and looked up to see Castiel standing in front of her, blood dripping from his nose. He looked exhausted, and he swayed on his feet and tipped forward some. “Castiel.”

Sam and Dean turned and rushed to the angel when they saw him. Jaime placed her palms on his chest to steady him as Sam and Dean held him up by his arms. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—we got you.” Sam said.

“Son of a bitch, you made it.”

“I... I did?” He slurred his words, staring down at his hands. He looked up at Jaime and smiled the best he could, saying, "I'm very surprised," before his eyes rolled back and he fainted.

“Whoa!”

“You’re okay.” Dean said, holding Castiel as his head fell back on his shoulders. Jaime followed the brothers as they dragged him over to the bed and laid him down. They straightened up and looked at each other. “Well, I could use that drink now.”

“Yeah.”

Sam walked over to the vanity near the front door, grabbing two drinking glasses. Dean moved to grab the bottle of alcohol his brother had bought when he went out to get food. Jaime sat down on the bed, next to Castiel, and watched as the light-amber liquid was poured, and the smell of whiskey flooded the room.

“Is Castiel gonna be okay?”

“If he took us there and made it back, he’ll be all right. Just needs some rest.” Sam answered, and she nodded as she looked at the angel.

“Well, this is it.”

They turned to Dean. “This is what?” Sam asked, taking a drink.

“Team Free Will.” He said, setting down the bottle of whiskey. “One ex-blood junkie,” Sam’s shoulders tensed, “one drop-out with six bucks to his name, Mr. Comatose over there,” He gestured at Castiel, then tipped his glass towards Jaime, “and our own personal Jesus. It’s awesome.”

She faced away from them. “It’s not funny.” Sam said.

“I’m not laughing.”

The room went quiet. “They all think we’ll say yes.” Sam’s voice was hushed.

“I know, it’s annoying.”

“What if they’re right?”

“They’re not.”

“I mean, why...” Sam paused. “Why would we, why would either of us? But... I’ve been weak before.”

“Sam—“

“Michael got Dad to say yes.”

“That’s different. Anna was about to kill Mom.”

“And if you could save Mom, what would you say?”

Dean fell silent, and when Jaime turned around, he was shaking his head. She looked down at the carpet and wrung her hands together as she bit her lip. The sleeve of the flannel slid up over her wrist, and she swallowed fearfully at the sight of the healed burn. She pulled at the sleeve, covering the burn and her hand up to the middle of her palm. Sam and Dean didn't notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOY HOWDY LOOK AT THIS THING HUH!!!!!  
> this was...so fun to write. because i love to hurt my characters. 8)  
> I REALLY LOVED WRITING THE INTERACTION BETWEEN JAIME AND LUCIFER I LOVED IT SO MUCH I AM VERY PROUD OF IT AND I'M VERY HAPPY WITH THE WAY I WROTE LUCIFER!!!!! he's always appeared as a sadistic dude with a v calming(unnerving) nature to his voice to me. whenever i'd hear him speak in the show i was like "he talks v calmly and it'S FREAKING ME OUT!!!!!" so i kinda bounced off that.  
> also michael was...eh. i basically just wrote whatever he said in the episode. i also like the last chapter, whre jaime hides her burn. lil' thing i really liked putting in there 8)c  
> i hope u enjoyed this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!!!!! the next chapter is gonna be a fun one!!!  
> the song used as the title is Hey There, Lonely Girl by Eddie Holman


	9. Hungry Heart

**SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA — FEB. 15, 2010**

Jaime leaned against the motel bed headboard, legs crossed as she flipped through whatever was on T.V. Sam and Dean had left about fifteen minutes after checking in. If they had already started working the case she picked out, she wouldn’t see them until later in the evening or early in the next morning. Staying up late and searching for something to watch was just her way of settling in for a night alone.

The motel door unlocked, and she reached for the pistol at her side. She relaxed when Sam and Dean walked in, putting down the gun and picking up the remote to turn off the television.

“Hey, kid.”

She looked up and just barely caught the bag Dean tossed at her. She raised a brow, and he watched with a smile as she looked inside. She pulled out a black pencil skirt and a matching black blazer. Her mouth fell open some as she reached in again and brought out a white button-up blouse and a pair of small black heels. At the bottom of the bag was a fake FBI badge with her face on it and a boxed up pair of nude tights.

Dean grinned like an excited child as she asked, “What is this?”

“It’s your new suit.”

“Yeah, I can see that; what’s it _for?_ ”

“Well, I know how _fun_ it can be, stuck in a motel room while Sam and I do all the _boring, investigation stuff,_ ” He said, “but I thought you could come with us for once.”

Jaime’s eyes widened. “Come with you? To investigate?” Dean nodded, and she looked in the bag again to examine the tags. “You got the right sizes; did you just guess?”

Dean’s smile faded, and he chewed the inside of his cheek. Sam walked past, adjusting the tie around his neck. “No, he looked at your clothes when you fell asleep in the car earlier.”

Her mouth fell open in an amused scoff as she turned to the older Winchester. He faced Sam, arms open and face a bit red. “Dude.” He whispered, sighing as he turned back to her. “I just figured you needed to get out more. You’re the one who picked out the case, so you should help work it.” She raised a brow again. “C’mon, when’s the last time you weren’t holed up, waitin’ for us to get back?”

“When we got the Colt.” She didn’t miss the way their faces fell. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Sam said, grabbing his suit jacket. “Come on, get dressed. We’ll tell you more on the way.”

“Okay.”

 

Jaime tugged at the fabric of her skirt, trying to look as professional as she could. Sam pulled off the FBI-look pretty well, standing tall and confident, and walked with a swagger in his step. She tried to follow his example, but the thought of being caught for impersonating a government official worried her. They walked past a small group of police officers standing at the front steps of the victim’s apartment building. Sam flashed his badge, and she did the same. Her hands shook. The officers nodded at them, one tipping his hat towards her.

She jumped when Sam’s hand pressed against the middle of her back. “Calm down.” He whispered.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. We’re just here to look for evidence and ask questions, remember?” She nodded, but her hands were still shaking. He sighed and brought something out from his pocket—the EMF reader. “If you want, I can do the talking, and you can check the apartment.”

“Okay.” She took the device from him and turned it on. She looked at Sam, took a deep breath, and gave him a thumbs up. He smiled as they entered the apartment together.

The roommate of the female victim—Alice—shook their hands when they walked in. Sam introduced himself as Agent Cliff and Jaime as Agent Stephans. He asked Alice’s grieving roommate if Jaime could look around. She nodded. Jaime walked off and slipped on the EMF earbuds, listening for any changes in the frequencies. She moved around the living room, out of Sam’s way as he questioned the woman, before heading into the victim’s bedroom. Nothing. She went into the roommate’s bedroom, then into the bathroom. Nothing. She walked into the kitchen, stopping when she saw the bloodstain beneath the fridge. It hadn’t been completely scrubbed away, and her stomach churned a little.

“So, you were the one who found the bodies?” She heard Sam ask.

“There was blood everywhere,” The roommate told him, “and _other stuff..._ I think Alice was already dead.”

“But Russell wasn’t?”

“I think he was, mostly.” Jaime walked back into the living room. The woman put a few picture frames into a box on the couch. “Except, he was still sort of... _chewing,_ a little.”

Jaime paused. She looked up, and the roommate had a disgusted look on her face. Sam wore a similar, surprised expression. He glanced back at the stain on the kitchen floor.

“How can two people even do that,” The woman asked, “eat each other a death?”

“That’s a good question.” Jaime muttered as she passed by Sam. He threw her a look, and she shrugged as she held the EMF device near the windows.

“The last few days, did you notice Alice acting strange?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did she seem,” He paused for a moment, “unusually hostile or aggressive?”

The roommate chuckled. “No way.” She picked a few things off the coffee table and placed them in the box. “Alice never drank, never even swore. She was a nice girl, and I’m talkin’ a _nice girl._ ” She glanced to the side, then back at Sam. “She still had her promise ring, if you know what I mean.”

“She was a virgin?”

Jaime paused again. “No premarital. I used to wonder how she did it—I mean, _didn’t_ do it.” Sam looked at Jaime. She turned away from him, coughing awkwardly, as the roommate continued. “It was her first date in months, she was so excited.”

She sighed and turned off the EMF reader, pulling the earbuds out. She put it in her pocket and stood next to Sam, leaning in close and whispering, “Apparently, they were both pretty excited.” He tilted his head in agreement.

 

“So, how was baby’s first day on the job?” Dean said with a grin, looking up from a case file as Jaime and Sam walked into the motel room. She sipped her drink, and Sam set a bag of fast food down on the table.

“Okay, I guess.” She shrugged, taking a seat next to Dean. He closed the lid of the laptop he had been looking at a bit. “I didn’t get any EMF readings, and Sam said he couldn’t smell any sulfur.”

“Which means ghost and demonic possession are both out.” Sam finished.

“Huh.” Dean closed the file and reached for the bag. “That’s where I was puttin’ my money.”

“How were the bodies?” Jaime asked as she took off her suit jacket, placing it over the back of her chair.

Dean's eyes followed her movements as she did. “Oh, my God, at the coroners—you should’ve seen these bodies.” He started, leaning back and rubbing his hands down his face. “I mean, these two just started _eating,_ a—and they just kept going. Their stomachs were full—like, Thanksgiving dinner full.” He reached for a beer, then added, “Talk about co-dependent.”

“Well, we got our feelers out. Not much more we can do tonight.” Sam sat down across from his brother and took the laptop from him, turning it to face him. “I’m just gonna go through some files, so you can go ahead and get going.”

Jaime raised a brow, and Dean blinked. “Sorry?”

“Go ahead; unleash the kraken. See you tomorrow morning.”

Dean glanced at Jaime, then at Sam, confused. “Where am I going?”

“Dean, Valentine’s Day was yesterday.” He said, as if his brother should’ve known. “Your favorite holiday, remember? What did you call it, _unattached drifter Christmas?_ ”

Jaime chuckled shortly as she took a bite of her food. Dean frowned at her as he moved to grab another beer. “Yeah, well... Be that as it may,” He shrugged, “I don’t know. Guess I’m not feeling it this year.”

Sam’s brows knit together. “So, you’re _not_ into bars full of lonely women?”

Dean went quiet for a moment, then shrugged again. “Guess not.” Jaime looked between the two—at Sam’s worried expression and Dean’s annoyed frown. “What?”

“It’s just... When a dog doesn’t eat, that’s when you know something’s wrong.”

“Remarkably patronizing concern noted, but nothing’s wrong.” He joined them back at the table.

Sam glanced at Jaime, the worried look still on his face. She sighed and took another sip of her drink.

 

**FEB. 16, 2010**

Jaime managed to get almost six hours of sleep that night. She woke up a little after seven-thirty in the morning and saw Sam getting dressed in the suit he wore yesterday. She sat up, stretching a bit, and rubbed at her eyes. Dean sat at the table, also dressed in his own suit, the day's newspaper in his hands. “What’s that?” She asked.

“There was another double suicide last night.”

“Really?” Dean nodded. She stretched again and kicked the bedsheets away. The long sleeves of her white shirt slipped down some, and she quickly pulled them over her wrists. She gripped her right forearm. “Are you gonna go see the bodies?”

“Yeah, why?” Sam raised a brow at her.

“Can I come?”

“What?”

“You sure?” Dean asked. “They might be kind of,” He made a face, “ _gross._ ”

Jaime shrugged. “I think I’ll be okay.” They didn’t look convinced. “C’mon, you said I could help you with this case.”

The brothers looked at each other, then Sam sighed. “Yeah, sure.”

She smiled as she stood, grabbing her new clothes from off the floor. “Thanks.” She brushed past them and headed into the bathroom.

 

They made it to the St. James Medical Center twenty-five minutes after it opened. Jaime stayed behind Sam and Dean as they walked inside. The man at the front desk eyed her, and she flashed her badge at him, just like Sam and Dean had. Her hands still shook a little, but the man didn’t stop her. The three walked through a set of double doors, then down a hallway that led to the autopsy room.

A bald man in a suit walked past them, holding a briefcase at his side. Jaime noticed Sam turn and watch him, and Dean saw, as well. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam sounded tense as he faced forward.

Jaime looked back at the man, concerned. Her eyes widened when she saw him staring at her. He looked away from her and headed through the double doors, out of sight. _What the hell?_ She followed the brothers as they opened the door to the autopsy room.

“Agent Marley,” The medical examiner said when they walked in, “you just can’t stay away.”

Dean smiled at the man. “Heard you tagged another double suicide.”

“Just finished closing ‘em up.”

“Dr. Corman, these are my partners, special agents Cliff and Stephans.”

“Agent Cliff, Agent Stephans.” The doctor smiled as he shook their hands. He moved past them and took off his lab coat. “I’ve pulled the organ sets and sent off the tox samples.”

“Do you mind if we take a look at the bodies?”

“Not at all, but like I said,” He walked over to a metal cabinet and opened the door, revealing a fridge full of organs in plastic containers, “their _good-and-plenties_ have already been tupperwared.”

Jaime’s eyes widened at the sight of the tubs. “Super.”

Dr. Corman tossed a set of keys to Dean. “Leave the keys up front with Marty.” He took a black coat and a hat from off a rack in the corner of the room, then turned back to the three. “And please, agents, refrigerate after opening.” He grinned as he shut the door behind him.

Sam and Dean immediately went to work. They opened the fridge and pulled out a few different-sized containers. Dean handed a couple to Jaime, and her lips turned up in a grimace. She walked over one of the examination tables and set them down. She grabbed a pair of latex medical gloves and peeled off one of the lids, not noticing the brothers watching her. “Oh, wow.” She exhaled, staring down at the organ. “That’s a stomach.”

Sam turned to Dean, who shrugged, then back to Jaime. “Is this... Is this your first autopsy?”

“Mhmm.” She said, reaching inside and taking out the stomach. She stuck her tongue out at the slippery feeling and set it down on the table, shaking her hands to get rid of the excess blood. “Why do you ask?”

“Because, it’s... You're kind of...” Dean pursed his lips, having trouble finding the right words.

“You’re acting strangely _calm._ ” Sam said. Jaime tilted her head, confused. “It’s just... During my first autopsy, I threw up.” He ignored Dean’s abrupt chuckle at the memory. “Even now, I sometimes get a little nauseous.”

She shrugged, and Sam sighed as he decided to let it go. The three of them studied the organs, using some of Dr. Corman’s tools for a closer examination. After working in silence for a while, Dean nudged Jaime’s arm with his elbow and leaned in close. “Hey,” She looked up at him as he slid his container over to her, “be my Valentine?” She saw the heart inside the tupperware and frowned at him. He grinned as she pushed the container away.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa—wait a second.” Sam set down the small intestine he had been looking at and reached for the heart. He opened the container that had the other heart in it and put the two side-by-side. “These both have identical marks.” He said, looking at them through a large magnifier.

Jaime pulled the magnifier in front of her face. Sure enough, she could just make out a small mark on both of the hearts. She pushed the lens away and leaned over one of the containers, squinting down at the organ. “This is Enochian.”

“What?” Sam and Dean said in unison. The younger Winchester took the tupperware from her and examined the organ again. He looked at it closely, before glancing at her. “Yeah... Looks like it.”

“You sure?” Sam shrugged, muttering something about _‘calling the expert,’_ and Dean looked at Jaime. “How did you know that?”

“Enochian is angel-language and, technically, a dead language, too.” Sam said, also turning to Jaime.

“I...” Jaime chewed her lip. “I took a...dead languages course during my second semester at community college.” They continued to stare at her. “I remember some of the symbols.” She pointed down at the heart. “I think couples used to _draw_ this one on each other during class, or something.”

“But you don’t know what it means.” Dean concluded, and Jaime shook her head. He sighed and walked away from the examination table. “Well, you learn somethin’ new every day.” He took off one of his gloves and reached into his pocket, pulling out a cell phone and holding down one of the buttons. “Cas, it’s Dean.” Jaime looked up as he held the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Room 31-C, basement level at St. James Medical Cen—“

He stopped when he nearly ran into the angel, suddenly in front of him. “I’m there now.” Castiel said into his own phone, staring at Dean.

“Yeah, I get that.”

“I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Right.”

Jaime chuckled. “I didn’t know angels used cell phones.”

Castiel's eyes flashed to her. “What are you doing here?” He turned to Dean. “What is she doing here?”

Dean looked surprised at the angel's tone. “Don’t get mad at me, she asked to come with!”

“Wha—You told me I could help!”

Castiel’s gaze remained hard. “Bringing her with you while working a case is not protecting the vessel, Dean.” He pushed past the hunter and walked up to Jaime, grabbing her arm tight. “You’re _not_ staying.”

“No!” Jaime pulled away from him and stepped back. Castiel’s mouth was set in a thin line as he stared at her. Sam and Dean watched them quietly. “Dean’s right; I did ask to come with! And you know what? I’m the one who picked this case!” The angel’s eyes widened, and Jaime nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. It was _my_ decision, and Sam and Dean said they could use my help. And I'm being helpful, right?” She turned to the brothers. They both nodded, and she turned back to Castiel. “See! They need my help, Castiel; you can’t take me back.”

“This isn’t safe, Jaime. What Sam and Dean do is dangerous.”

“Yeah, _I know._ ”

“I can’t allow you to—“

“You said they have to watch over me, right? Take care of the vessel?” Blue eyes narrowed down at her, but the angel nodded. “Well, if _I’m_ here, and if _they’re_ here,” She gestured to Sam and Dean, “aren’t they still watching me? Yeah, I’m working a case with them, but at least I’m _with them_ —two experienced hunters—instead of in a motel room, by myself.”

Castiel glared as Jaime crossed her arms. Sam and Dean glanced between the two, a bit uncomfortable. After a few moments, the angel sighed and turned away, giving in. He looked down at the hearts in the containers and picked one up, bare-handed. He turned it over a few times, then focused on the mark. “You’re right, these are angelic marks.” Jaime smirked. “I imagine you’ll find similar ones on the other couple’s hearts, as well.”

“So, what are they? What do they mean?”

“It’s a mark of union.” He said, putting the organ back in the tupperware. He tried to shake some of the blood off his hand, then wiped it along the edge of the container. “This man and woman were intended to mate.”

“Okay, but who put them there?”

“Your people call them _‘Cupid.’_ ”

“What?”

“What human myth has mistaken for _‘Cupid’_ is actually a lower order of angel. Technically, a cherub—third class.”

“Cherub?” Dean repeated.

“Yeah, they’re all over the world.” Castiel explained, moving over to the sink and using a towel to wipe of the last of the blood. “There are dozens of them.”

“You mean the little fat, flying kid in diapers?”

“They’re not incontinent.”

Jaime muttered a quiet, “Ew.” Dean looked a bit taken aback, as well.

Sam brushed it off. “So, what you’re saying is—“

“What I’m saying is that a Cupid has gone _rogue,_ ” The angel interrupted in a strong voice, “and we have to stop him before he kills again.”

The three stared at him for a moment, then Sam nodded. “Naturally.”

“Of course we do.” Dean said.

“Yep.” Jaime sighed. Castiel frowned at her.

 

Castiel managed to track down Cupid and suggested the four of them eat at a nearby restaurant so they could catch him. When they arrived, a blonde woman at the front register led them to a booth near the back. Jaime noticed that Valentine’s Day decorations were still everywhere, and a few couples were scattered among everyone else.

When they made it to their booth, Dean pulled out a chair for her, and she sat next to him. Sam and Castiel sat across from them. It felt warm in the restaurant. Jaime took off her jacket and was about to roll up her sleeves, but stopped. She glanced down at her right wrist and undid the first two buttons on her blouse instead. 

A young waitress walked over and took their order. Jaime didn’t order anything besides a water; she didn’t feel hungry. The food came quickly, and she took a drink before she looked at Castiel. He didn’t have anything in front of him, either.

“Do angels need to eat?”

“Not really.” He answered, looking around the restaurant.

She nodded. “So, why’s Cupid here?”

“Yeah, you just happen to know he likes the cosmos at this place?” Dean commented.

“This place is a nexus of human reproduction. It’s exactly the kind of...” He trailed off. Jaime saw him staring at Dean’s burger, which was now covered in ketchup. “The kind of garden Cupid will come to—to populate.”

Dean brought the burger to his mouth, but stopped. He stared at it and sighed when set it down, pushing the whole plate away from him. Sam looked at his brother in disbelief. “Wait a minute, _you’re_ not hungry?”

He looked down at his plate. “No.” Sam tilted his head. “What? I’m not hungry.”

“Then you’re not gonna finish that?” They turned to Castiel, and he didn’t give Dean time to answer as he reached over the table and took the plate.

“Wait, but you just said...” Jaime didn’t finish her sentence as Castiel took a bite. He looked up at her, then back to the burger and tilted it towards her, offering her some. She shook her head. He was about to take another bite when he looked up and over her shoulder.

“He’s here.”

“Where?” Sam turned around. “I don’t see anything.”

A gust of wind blew through the restaurant. It moved a few of the decorations that hung from the ceiling. Castiel’s gaze followed the wind to a couple near the front of the restaurant. “There.”

Dean, Sam, and Jaime turned to where he was looking. “You mean, the same-side-of-the-booth couple over there?” Dean asked. The couple smiled at each other then leaned forward to kiss.

“Meet me in the back.” A soft _whoosh_ was heard, and when they turned back to Castiel, he was gone.

They moved out of their seats and away from the table, slipping past the restaurant workers. They passed the restrooms and came to a door marked _‘Employees Only.’_ They opened the door and walked down a brick hallway before they spotted Castiel, standing in a storage room off to the side. A hand was outstretched and open in the space in front of him.

“Cas, where is he?” Sam asked.

“I have him tethered.” He said, not turning back to them. He began to chant. Jaime recognized the sound—it sounded like the one he used to help them find that angel, Anna. “Manifest yourself.”

He lowered his hand. The four of them looked around the room, but didn’t see anything unusual. Dean took a few steps forward, arms open. “So, where is he?”

“Here I am!” A voice announced. Dean jumped as a pair of arms wrapped around him and lifted him off his feet. Everyone turned and stared as a man— _a naked man_ —hugged the hunter from behind, grinning widely.

Dean grunted and struggled in the man's hold. “Help!”

“Oh, help is on the way! Yes, it is, yes, it is.” The man giggled, swaying Dean side-to-side. He stopped when he noticed Castiel, and he released Dean and headed towards the angel. “Hello, you!” Dean grimaced when he glanced down and saw that the man was, in fact, _naked._ Castiel groaned as he was picked up—at least a foot of the ground—and squeezed into a tight hug.

“This is Cupid?”

“Yes.” Castiel strained to say.

Cupid set Castiel down and turned around, locking eyes with Jaime. “Come here, you!” She took a step back, searching for an escape route, but it was too late. Cupid had captured her in a tight hug. She could feel her back cracking as she was squeezed and lifted off the ground, just like Dean and Castiel. After a few seconds of strong hugging, he set her down, keeping his hands on her shoulders, and squinted at her. He let out an overjoyed gasp and pulled her in for another hug. “Father, it’s you! Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” Jaime groaned uncomfortably into his bare chest. He let her go and smiled at her.

Then his eyes fell on Sam. “And look at you, huh?” Sam shook his head, turning to run out of the storage room, but ran right into Cupid’s open arms instead. “Yes, yes, yes, yes!”

“Is this a fight? Are we in a fight?” Dean asked, turning to Castiel.

“This is...their handshake.” The angel explained.

“I don’t like it.”

“No one likes it.”

Cupid released Sam and gave him a friendly pat on the back, before turning and facing the other three. Dean had a difficult time keeping his eyes from drifting downwards. Jaime immediately rolled her eyes to look anywhere else. He smiled at them. “What can I do for you?”

“Why are you doing this?” Castiel asked.

“Doin’ what?”

“Your targets—the ones you’ve marked—are slaughtering each other.”

Cupid’s smile fell and was replaced with a look of confusion. “What? They are?”

“Listen, birthday suit, we know, okay?” Dean said. “We know you’ve been flittin’ around, poppin’ people with your poison arrow and making them murder each other!”

Cupid brought a hand up to his mouth, brows furrowing together sadly. Castiel didn’t ease up as he continued his accusation. “What we don’t know is _why._ ”

He looked up at the angel, surprised. “You think that I...” He trailed off, frowning. “Well, uh... I—I don’t know what to say.” His voice broke as he started to cry. He put his hands over his eyes and rushed past Dean, who did his best to avoid touching him.

“Oh, no...” Jaime muttered.

The four watched Cupid as he sobbed near the back of the room. “Should...” Sam said. “Should somebody go talk to him?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Give ‘em hell, Cas.” Dean slapped the angel on the shoulder.

He jerked forward some and glanced back, sighing. “Look,” He started, moving to stand behind Cupid, “we didn’t mean to, uhm...” He stopped and turned back to the other three. They urged him on. “To hurt your feelings.”

Cupid turned around, grabbed the lapels of Castiel’s coat, and pulled him in for another hug. “Love is more than a word to me, y’know? I _love_ love, I love it! And, if that’s wrong, I don’t wanna be right!”

“Yes, yes, of course. I, uh...” Castiel reached up and pat Cupid’s bare back. “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

Cupid pulled away, but kept his hands on the angel’s upper-arms. “I was just on my appointed rounds. Whatever my targets do after that has nothing to do with me. I—I was following my orders.” His expression changed, and he moved Castiel aside and walked up to Jaime. She took a step back, but his hands were on her shoulders again, holding her in place. “Father, please—read my mind. Read my mind, and you'll see I'm not lying.”

“Uhm, I—I, uh...” She looked to Sam and Dean for help, but they just shrugged. “I can’t, I—I don’t know... Uh—Castiel!” She turned to the angel, and his eyes snapped to her. “He—He should do it, he’s _much_ better at, uh, reading minds than I am.”

Cupid turned around and walked back to Castiel, gripping his arms again. “Please, brother; you’ll see.”

The two locked eyes for a few moments, before Castiel sighed. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Jiminy Christmas, thank you!”

“Wait, wait, you said—you said you were just following orders?” Dean questioned.

“Mhmm.”

“Whose orders?”

Cupid laughed. “Heaven, silly! Heaven.”

“Why does Heaven care if Harry meets Sally?”

“Oh, usually they don’t. Certain bloodlines, certain destinies,” He pointed at the Winchesters, “like yours.”

“What?”

“Yeah, the union of John and Mary Winchester— _very_ big deal upstairs. Top priority arrangement.” 

“Are you saying you fixed up our parents?”

“Well, not me, but yeah.” Cupid smiled. “It wasn’t easy, either. They couldn’t stand each other at first, but when we were done with them—perfect couple.”

“Perfect?” Cupid nodded at Dean. “They’re _dead!_ ”

His smile faded. “I... I’m sorry, but the orders were very clear; you and Sam needed to be born. I guess your parents were just meant to be.” He chuckled again, swaying side-to-side as he sang, “ _A match made in Heaven! Heaven!_ ”

Dean lashed out. His fist connected with Cupid’s face, and a loud _crack_ was heard. He turned away suddenly, cradling his hand and muttering a curse. When he turned back around, Cupid was gone. Sam sighed and Castiel rolled his eyes. “Where is he? Where’d he go!?”

“I believe you upset him.” Castiel said.

“Upset _him!?_ ”

“Dean, enough!” Sam walked over to his brother.

“What?”

“You just punched a Cupid!”

“I punched a _dick!_ ”

Sam scoffed. “Uhm, are we gonna talk about what’s been up with you lately, or not?”

“Or not.” Dean moved past his brother, not sparing a glance at Jaime or Castiel as he left the storage room.

 

Dr. Corman had called them a few hours after the Cupid incident. He said there had been another death, and that this one had been _‘one of the weird ones’_ they said to call about. Sam said he could handle it by himself and took the car, leaving Dean and Jaime at the motel to do more research. Fifteen minutes in, Dean announced that he was hungry. He asked Jaime if she wanted anything, but she said no. He left the motel, telling her not to talk to strangers before he locked the door behind him.

Jaime felt herself beginning to panic almost immediately. The last time she was left alone, she had a less-than-great encounter with the devil himself. She stared at the door, her pistol less than an arm’s length away, and took deep breaths. She shook her head, trying to snap herself out of the dread, and grabbed the laptop Dean had left on the table.

She glanced at the autopsy folders Sam and Dean had taken from the hospital, then opened a new tab typed the police department's website into the address bar. The site loaded up, and she didn't waste any time pressing an array of keys until a few windows of code appeared on the screen. Her fingers moved quickly, adding new commands and removing some to the windows, and she finally pressed _'Enter.'_ The screen flashed for a moment before a slightly different version of the police website appeared, this one with more articles and links about information normally inaccessible to non-law enforcement individuals.

She found a few articles on the recent deaths in town, these ones much more detailed than the others. Counting the body Sam had gone to see, there had been eight suicides and nineteen recorded overdoses since Wednesday—almost a week ago. Every death listed had been strange. She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms and staring at the words on the screen, unable to put a connection together from what she had found.

A key turning in the door lock made her breath catch in her throat. Her hand slammed down to grab the pistol on the table. She tensed when the door opened up, but relaxed as soon as Dean walked in. He was hiding something behind his back, and he closed the door and moved so she couldn’t see whatever it was.

She looked back to the laptop, typing in a few more things, before he cleared his throat. She looked up at him again. He smiled, and his eyes flashed down to the table. She followed his gaze and was surprised to see a small, heart-shaped box and a red rose on the table. She lifted her head to look at him. “What’s this?”

“What do you mean _‘what’s this,’_ it’s Valentine’s Day!”

“That was two days ago, Dean, remember? We were in Florida.” She frowned a little as she thought back to those cold and unsettling pale-blue eyes. Her right hand clenched into a small fist.

Dean didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, I know, but you didn’t get anything.”

“And? I wasn’t really expecting to. I don’t think I’ve got a secret admirer following me around the country.”

“C’mon, kid. Every girl deserves some flowers and chocolates on Valentine’s Day,” He leaned forward against one of the chairs, “even ones who happen to be the vessel of God.” He pulled the chair out and sat down, picking up the rose and holding it out to her. “So, how ‘bout it? Wanna be my Valentine?” He raised his eyebrows up and down playfully.

“I don’t think a flower and some candy are gonna be enough for me to forgive you for kidnapping me.”

Dean frowned, setting the rose down on the table. “Are you _seriously_ still hung up about that? It wasn’t even a kidnapping; technically speaking, _you_ came to _us._ And it wasn’t even us, it was Cas!”

“Technically speaking, _you_ were an accessory to kidnapping _me._ Which, according to this, says that’s enough to get you put away for up to fifteen years.” She turned the laptop around to face Dean, having clicked out of the autopsy reports. He skimmed over the page, then looked at her over the top of the screen.

“This is their main database... How’d you get into this?” He asked. “It’s got all their current case info; it’s supposed to be locked tight.”

She shrugged. “I went to tech school.” That wasn’t a good enough answer, because he continued to stare at her. She rolled her eyes, sighing. “Look, when you go to a school for computer programming, you get bored and sometimes do nerdy and _slightly_ illegal things. Like learning how to hack into websites, which sometimes include the local police station and other confidential businesses.”

The guitar riff that was Dean’s ringtone went off, and he glanced at the caller ID. “You’re just _full_ of surprises these days, kid.” He muttered, answering his cell. “Hey, Sam; what’d you find?”

Jaime took the laptop back as Dean stood and walked away from the table. She clicked on a few different articles before glancing down at the box of chocolates. She picked it up and leaned back in the chair, opening the top and looking down at the eleven pieces of chocolate inside. She picked one up and ate it without a thought. _Oh, cherry-filled._ She smiled a little at the taste.

“Yeah, all right; I’ll see you in ten.” Dean said, and he looked at her as he hung up. He noticed the box in her hands and smiled. “They good?”

“You want one?” She asked, holding the box out to him. He walked over, still smiling as he took one and put it in his mouth.

 

Sam came back to the motel a little more than ten minutes after Dean got off the phone with him. He was out of breath and had a briefcase with him. Dean asked him about it, and he breathed out, “Demons,” as he set it on the table.

Jaime’s chest felt tight the moment he entered the room. She moved out of the chair and away from the table, eyes not leaving the black case. She joined Sam and Dean and gripped the front of her flannel, just over her heart. _What is this? I feel..._ She continued to stare at the case. _There’s something weird about that thing._

“What the hell do demons have to do with this?” Dean asked, glancing at his brother.

“I have no idea.”

“Sam, what’s in there?” She looked up at him and noticed how tense he was. “Sam?”

“Hey, you okay?”

Sam blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be all right.”

Dean watched him for a moment, then turned back to the case. “Well, let’s crack this thing open.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“C’mon, kid, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“The worst, usually right after you say that.” She said. Dean rolled his eyes as he stepped towards the case. "Dean, wait.”

He waved her off as he bent down and ran his fingers over the strange symbols on the locks. He placed his thumbs over the two buttons and pressed down. The briefcase popped open, and a blinding light filled the room. Sam and Dean stepped back, arms up to shield their eyes. Jaime stared at the glow, mouth open in a short gasp and unable to move. There was a soft ringing, and the light began to fade after a moment. As it disappeared, she could feel the strange tension in her chest loosen, and she turned to Sam and Dean. “What the hell was that?”

“A human soul.” The three of them turned around. Castiel stood at the back of the motel room, a bag of fast food and a burger in his hands. “It’s starting to make sense.” His eyes remained on them as he took a quick bite.

“What about _that,_ ” Sam pointed at the open briefcase, “makes sense?”

“When did you start eating?”

“Exactly.” He said through a mouthful. “My hunger—it’s a clue, actually.”

“For what?” They said in unison.

“This town isn’t suffering from some _love-gone-wrong_ effect. It’s suffering from hunger—starvation, to be exact. Specifically,” He paused to chew, “Famine.”

“Famine?” The angel nodded. “A—As in, the Horseman?” He nodded again.

Jaime turned to Sam, eyes wide. “The _what?_ ”

“Great.” Dean said. “That—That’s freakin’ great.”

“I thought famine meant starvation, as in, you know,” Sam gestured to the items in Castiel’s hands, “food.”

“Yes, absolutely. But not just food.” He explained. “Everyone seems to be starving for something—sex, attention, drugs, love.”

“That explains the puppy-lovers that Cupid shot up.”

“Right. The cherub made them crave love, then Famine came and made them rabid for it.” He took another bite.

“Wait a minute—wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.” Jaime looked between the three men. “Famine, the Horseman... As in, Horsemen of the Apocalypse? Like, the ones from the bible?” Dean nodded. Jaime fell back into one of the chairs. “No, that’s... That’s just insane, that—that can’t be true. But _of course_ it can, because...this is the apocalypse... Oh, my God.”

“What about you?” Dean said, turning back to Castiel. “I mean, since when do angels secretly hunger for White Castle?”

Castiel looked down at the half-eaten burger. “It’s my vessel—Jimmy.” Jaime looked up at him. “His appetite for red meat has been touched by Famine’s effect.” He turned away from them, strangely embarrassed, as he took another bite.

“So, Famine just rolls into town and everyone goes crazy?”

The angel swallowed his food. “ _’And then will come Famine, riding on a black steed. He will ride into the land of plenty,’_ ” Jaime’s eyes narrowed, recognizing the words, “ _’and great will be the Horseman’s hunger, for he is hunger.’_ ” She remembered—a verse from the bible, from Revelations. “ _’His hunger will seep out and poison the air.’_ Famine is hungry, and he must devour the souls of his victims.”

“So, that’s what was in the briefcase, Twinkie dude’s soul?”

Castiel nodded. “Lucifer has sent his demons to care for Famine—to feed him, make certain he’ll be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

Jaime ran her hands through her hair, staring down at the floor as she recalled the rest of the verse. “To march across the land.”

 

A frail, elderly man—wrinkled skin and white hair, Famine—sat in an electric wheelchair in the middle of a Biggerson’s restaurant. Men in suits—demons—stood around him, while lifeless bodies slumped over the booths and tables, flies buzzing everywhere. The bell at the entrance jingled, and the old man lifted his head to see who had entered. A bald man in a suit—another demon—stepped over a body and approached the Horseman, clutching his arm. Famine inhaled deeply. “Hungry...”

“The Winchesters, sir,” The demon said, “they’re here.”

“Where?”

“At the hospital. I fought with Sam Winchester and got this off him.” He reached into his pocket and brought out Sam’s motel key, placing it in Famine’s outstretched hand. “His brother is here, as well, and...”

“And what?”

“Forgive me, sir, I couldn’t really believe it myself, but... It was as if God Himself was there with them.”

Famine narrowed his dark eyes. “God?”

“Yes. It felt like Him, _smelled_ like Him.” The demon continued. “If it is Him, then He appears to be using a human female as a vessel.”

The Horseman laughed, wrinkles showing even more as he smiled. “How delightful! I want to meet this vessel, I want to say hello to my old friend! But, after lunch.” The demon swallowed nervously. “Now, where is it?”

“Sorry?”

“The one who loves creamed cakes so much.” Famine laughed again. “Where is his soul?”

The demon looked away as the Horseman’s laughter stopped. “I’m sorry; the—Sam Winchester took the case from me. He had the knife,” He glanced down at his arm, then looked at the floor, “I—I lost it.”

“But I’m _hungry!_ ”

The demon flinched when Famine yelled. “I’ll get another, I—I won’t be ten minutes.” He turned and ran towards the entrance.

“Hungry!” The Horseman’s hand shot out, and the lights flickered for a moment before they burst. The demon stopped running, frozen in place. “Now!” Black smoke poured out of his mouth and pooled around his feet, and Famine’s hand clenched into a fist. The demon's vessel crumpled to the floor, dead. The Horseman moved his hand towards his mouth, and the thick smoke drifted towards him. He devoured it all and sighed deeply after swallowing. “Oh, _delicious!_ ”

 

Jaime leaned forward in her chair, her face in her hands. Sam had gone to the bathroom, and Dean paced around the motel room. Castiel had taken a seat on one of the beds, still stuffing his face with burgers. “Famine?” She asked, looking up at the angel. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” He said through a mouthful of meat.

“So, what, this whole town is just gonna eat, drink, and screw itself to death?” Sam called from the restroom.

“We should stop it.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Dean said. “How?”

“How did you stop the last Horseman you met?”

Dean paused, eyes rolling as he tried to remember. He turned and walked over to the coat rack, reaching into the pockets of his leather jacket. “War got his mojo from his ring.”

“You fought _War?_ ”

Dean turned back to Castiel, a gold band between his fingers. “After we cut it off, he just tucked tail and ran.”

“You _cut off_ the ring?”

He continued ignoring Jaime. “Everyone affected just snapped out of it, like they woke up out of a dream. You think Famine’s got a class ring, too?”

“I know he does.”

“Okay, well, let’s track him down and get to choppin’.”

“Yeah.” Castiel stared down into his fast food bag as he stood up. He sighed as he reached inside, pushing around wrappers and searching for more to eat.

Dean raised a brow. “What are you, the Hamburglar?”

“I’ve developed a taste for ground beef.”

“Have you tried to stop eating?”

Castiel turned to Jaime, eyes narrow. “I’m an angel, I can stop anytime I want.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever. C’mon, kid, get ready.” He pat Jaime on her shoulder before he turned to the bathroom. “Sam, let’s roll.”

“Dean, I, uhm... I can’t.” He leaned against the bathroom doorframe. “I can’t go.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think it got to me.” He looked at the floor. “I think I’m hungry for it.”

“Hungry for what?”

He glanced at Jaime, then back to Dean. “You know.”

“Demon blood?” Jaime watched as Sam hung his head, ashamed. Her brows furrowed as she remember what they had said back at the psychiatric hospital. Dean turned to Castiel. “You gotta get him out of here. You gotta beam him to, like, Montana—anywhere but here.”

“It won’t work; he’s already infected. The hunger’s just gonna travel with him.”

“Well, then, what do we do?”

Jaime watched Sam shake his head, trying to snap out of the state he was in. “You go cut that bastard’s finger off.” Dean turned to him and nodded. “But, before you do, you better...” He exhaled sharply. “You better lock me down—good.”

Dean looked torn as he moved to one of their duffel bags and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Sam walked back into the bathroom and sat on the floor, and Dean knelt down and cuffed his brother to the sink pipe. Jaime chewed her lip as she listened to metal clink against metal.

“Jaime.” She turned around. Castiel stood behind her. “You need to stay here.”

“What, why?”

“We’re about to go up against one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And we have no idea how powerful he is; you could be killed.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the bed. She grabbed his hand and frowned as he pushed her to sit down. “If it were something not as formidable or unknown, you could come with, but... This is beyond dangerous for you.”

“ _’For me?’_ ” She repeated. “But I can help you and Dean—“

“You can help by staying here.”

Jaime looked past Castiel to see Sam watching her from the bathroom floor. “What?”

“Jaime, please. I need someone—I need you to stay here. If this hunger gets out of control, I need you here to stop me if I try to leave.”

“I... Sam, you’re _twice_ my size; you’d just push me out of the way.”

“Then make sure I don’t get loose.”

“Put a bullet in his leg, if you have to.”

“What?” Jaime faced Dean as he walked out of the bathroom.

“I’m serious.” He said, holding out her pistol. She stared up at him for a moment, before sighing and taking the gun. He turned back to his brother. “Just hang in there, Sam. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Be careful.” Jaime said.

“Hurry.” Dean nodded to his brother as he closed the bathroom door. Castiel pushed a large dresser in front of the door, and they turned away to pack up a few things. Jaime watched them from her spot on the bed as they finished and headed out. Dean gave her one last, quick look before he left and locked the door behind him. She turned to the bathroom door, frowning as she heard handcuffs clinking against the pipe again.

 

Dean sat in the Impala, watching the front of the St. James Medical Center. He and Castiel had gone to speak to Dr. Corman about the other deaths, but found out that he had also been affected by Famine. That morning, he had been sober for twenty years. That evening, he had gone home and drank himself to death. Castiel could sense that his soul hadn’t been collected yet, so they decided to stake out the medical center, watching for any suspicious characters leaving with a suspicious briefcase.

A sudden rustling beside Dean startled him. He turned to see Castiel digging into another fast food bag. The angel pulled out a burger, unwrapped it, and took a large bite. “Are you serious?”

“These make me,” He smiled down at his food, “ _very_ happy.”

“How many is that?”

“I lost count. Somewhere in the low hundreds.” Dean let out a low, impressed whistle. “What I don’t understand is, where’s your hunger, Dean?”

“What?”

“Well, slowly but surely, everyone in town is falling prey to Famine,” He spoke with his mouthful as he turned to the hunter, “but so far, you seem unaffected.” He stopped to swallow his food. “Come to think of it, Jaime seems to have been untouched by Famine’s hunger, as well. Why is that?”

“Well, I can’t speak for the kid, but me...” He paused, shrugging. “When I wanna drink, I drink. When I want sex, I go get it. Same goes for a sandwich or a fight.”

“So, you’re saying you’re well-adjusted.”

“God, no—I’m just well-fed.” He smirked.

Castiel nodded in understanding, then looked at something over Dean’s shoulder. “There.” Dean turned as a man in a black suit walked out of the medical center. A briefcase was at his side, and he climbed into a large black Cadillac. Castiel continued to eat as Dean started up the Impala and followed the car.

 

Sam’s hunger had been getting worse. Jaime could hear him wheezing and panting, and he had started to bang the handcuffs against the sink pipe. He had called out to her a few times, but she didn’t answer him. She wasn’t sure how sturdy the pipe was and was worried about him breaking out soon. He grunted, and she sighed, shaking her head. She needed some air, and she stood and walked to the motel door, unlocking and opening it.

A fist suddenly connected with the front of her face, and she screwed her eyes shut as she let out a pained gasp, stumbling backwards. A hand slapped over her mouth, silencing her, and someone moved around to pull her arms behind her back. She cracked open an eye and saw people in black suits entering the motel room. Something warm dripped from her nose, and she tasted blood beneath the stranger’s hand.

A woman walked in last, and she smirked when she saw Jaime, eyes turning black. She froze as she locked eyes with the woman. _Demons._

The woman walked over to the large dresser, listening as Sam struggled inside the bathroom. “He’s in here.” She spoke to one of the male demons. He moved forward and started to push the dresser away from the door. Jaime’s eyes widened, and she jerked in the demon’s hold, voice muffled against his hand when she tried to shout. The female demon looked her up and down, then scoffed. “Some vessel of God. If Famine didn’t want to see you, we’d kill you right now.”

Jaime continued thrashing as the demon finished moving the dresser. “Jaime? Jaime, what happened?” Sam called out, and his voice sounded hoarse. “Are they back? I—I don’t think it worked.” She screamed against the hand over her mouth, hoping he would hear something—anything. “I think I’m still,” The demon opened the door, and Jaime could see Sam’s eyes widen as he stared up at him, “still h—hungry.”

She jerked and managed to get an arm free, reaching up to pull on the hand covering her mouth. The demon only tightened his hold on her. “Look at this.” The woman in the suit said, stepping inside the bathroom. “Someone trussed you up for us.” Sam’s eyes followed her, aggressive and dark. “The boss says we can’t kill you, but I bet we can break off a few pieces.” She turned to one of the other demons.

He smirked as he headed for the Winchester. Jaime could see Sam’s chest heave with each deep breath he took. He watched as the demon knelt down and grabbed the handcuffs. With a single quick motion, the cuffs broke. And so did Sam. He lashed out and struck the demon in the face, sending him slamming back against the tiled wall. Jaime’s nails dug into the demon’s hand as she watched, eyes wide.

In a flurry of fast movements, Sam stood and tackled the suited woman to the ground. They landed on top of a small glass table in the living room area, and it collapsed under both their weight. He grabbed a large piece of broken glass and stabbed it into the side of her neck. She groaned as he yanked it out, and blood oozed from the gash. He tossed the shard away and leaned down, pressing his mouth against the wound.

 _Oh, my God..._ Jaime watched in shock as the demon struggled underneath Sam. Movement in the bathroom caught her attention, and she saw the demon that had freed Sam leaning against the doorframe. The woman screamed for him to pull Sam off of her. He ran forward and tugged at the hunter’s shirt, but he didn’t budge. Jaime could hear the flannel tearing as he swallowed the demon’s blood.

She opened her mouth as best she could and sunk her teeth into the demon’s hand. He cursed, jumping back and releasing her. She fell forward on her hands and knees. “Sam, stop!” He didn’t move. The demon’s hands were back, gripping her upper-arms with a bruising strength. She tried to wrench away from him again. The other demon stood over Sam, a coat rack held above his head. “Sam, watch out!”

Sam turned, arm outstretched, and the demon crashed back against the far wall. His mouth and hands were covered in blood. “Wait your turn.” He turned back to the woman, lips attaching onto her neck again.

“Sam...” Jaime breathed out in disbelief. She watched him for a moment, before she was pulled backwards. She turned to see the demon hauling her towards the motel door, and she thrashed around to try and get away. “No, no, no, no, no—Sam! Sam, help!” She shouted. He didn’t even look at her. “Sam, please! _Sam!_ ”

The motel door slammed shut, leaving Sam alone in the room. Jaime continued to scream as she was shoved into the trunk of a black car.

 

“Demons.” Dean muttered as he parked the Impala. He watched the man with the briefcase walk inside the Biggerson’s restaurant, before he surveyed the area. The place was surrounded by large black cars. The front entrance was guarded by three demons in suits. “You wanna go over the plan again?” He turned to Castiel in the passenger’s seat and saw him playing with the wrapper of his last burger. “Hey, happy meal! The plan?”

The angel jumped a little when Dean raised his voice. “I—I take the knife, I go in, I cut the ring hand off Famine, and I meet you back here in the parking lot.”

Dean sighed. “Well, that sounds foolproof.”

“Wait a minute, Dean.” Castiel said, squinting past him at the restaurant. “Something’s not right.”

“Cas, nothing’s been right since we started this case.” The angel was gone when he turned back to him, and he sighed. He leaned back in his seat and waited. For about three seconds. “This is taking too long.” He muttered, and he grabbed his shotgun and exited the car. He crouched beside the black cars and managed to sneak around to the unguarded back door.

Dean opened the back entrance of the restaurant, staying alert as he tiptoed through the kitchen. He grimaced at the sight of the cook’s lifeless body leaning in a tub of boiling oil as he passed by. As he moved past the window that let him see into the dark dining area, he squinted when he spotted a hunched over figure. “Cas!” He called out in a quiet whisper. The angel didn’t answer, and when Dean moved forward a few steps, he could see what was happening. Castiel knelt over a steel tin of raw ground meat, stuffing handfuls into his mouth without pausing. “Oh, Cas...”

“Castiel, stop! Snap out of it!”

Dean held his shotgun close at the sound of another voice. He moved towards the swinging door that led into the dining area from the kitchen and pushed it open a bit. His eyes widened when he saw Jaime, struggling against two demons that held her arms. Her eyes were on the angel as she tried to get away. “Jaime?”

Her eyes snapped to him. “Dean, behind you!”

He turned around just in time, slamming the butt of his shotgun into the face of the demon trying to sneak up on him. The demon fell to the ground, and Dean cocked the gun, preparing to shoot. A pair of strong hands gripped his jacket and spun him around, roughly throwing him against the steel freezer doors. He collapsed to the ground, blood dripping from a fresh cut on his forehead. The same hands that had thrown him hoisted him onto his feet, and another pair of arms held his other side. His vision was blurry as he was pushed through a swinging door.

“Cas?” He slurred, looking through the haze and down at the angel.

Castiel looked up at him, but said nothing as the demons turned Dean to face someone else. “The other Mr. Winchester.” He frowned at the elderly man in the wheelchair.

Dean glanced at Jaime, watching her struggle against the demons’ vice-like grips. She stopped and stared at him, then looked away. Dean’s eyes narrowed as he looked back down to Castiel. The demon-killing knife was on the ground beside him. “What did you do to him?”

“You sicced your dog on me, so I just threw him a steak.”

“So, this is your big trick? Making people cuckoo for cocoa puffs?”

“Doesn’t take much—hardly a push.” Famine said. “America—all-you-can-eat, all the time. Consume, consume. A swarm of locusts in stretch pants, yet you’re all still starving because hunger doesn’t just come from the body. It comes from the soul.”

“Then what about her?” Dean jerked his head at Jaime. “What about me? Our souls ain’t starving.”

Famine chuckled. “Do you really think God would take a vessel and leave it helpless?” He shook his head, looking at Jaime. “He may not be able to do much, but He can still protect her—keep her safe from her own hunger.” Jaime glared at Famine as she jerked around in the demons’ hold. “What are you even doing here, girl? You don’t belong here, do you?” Her eyes narrowed as he turned to Dean. “Have you wondered why, Dean? How you can even walk in my presence?”

“I like to think it’s because of my strength of character.”

“I disagree.”

Jaime watched as Famine moved closer to Dean, a hand outstretched. Dean pushed back against the demons, trying to get away. The Horseman pressed his palm against Dean’s chest, and the hunter tipped his head back as he groaned in pain. “Dean!” Jaime tried to move to him, but the demons’ grip grew even tighter. “Don’t touch him, stop—“

“Silence, girl!” Famine shouted back at her, keeping his hand on Dean’s chest. “I see... That’s one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean.” He gasped when Famine removed his hand. “You can’t fill it, can you? Not with food or drink, not even with sex.”

“Oh, you’re so full of crap.”

“You can smirk and joke and lie to everyone around you—even to yourself—but not to me! I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated. You can’t win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting, keep going through the motions. You’re not hungry, Dean, because inside, you’re already dead.”

Dean’s glare softened as he looked away from the Horseman. Jaime frowned. “Oh, Dean...”

“As for you, girl,” Famine said, turning back to Jaime, “you aren’t quite the old friend I expected. I was hoping to have a nice chat, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.” She looked confused, and the Horseman gestured to the demons holding her. “You may do with her as you wish, but don’t kill her—Lucifer wants to see the vessel, something about _‘finishing the job.’_ ”

Jaime shuddered at the mention of the devil. She glanced at her wrist then squirmed as the demons started to pull her towards the kitchen. “No! No, no, no—let go of me!” The demon holding the kitchen door open smirked down at her. She shook her head, digging her heels into the floor. “Please, no! Don’t—Don’t do this, _please!_ ”

“Get off her!” Dean yelled when he heard her scream, pulling against his own demons.

“Let them go.”

Everyone turned to the front entrance. Sam stood tall, blood staining his mouth and dripping down his chin. “Sammy, no...” Dean muttered, and Jaime hung her head. The two demons that had been at Famine’s side stalked towards him.

“Stop!” Famine commanded. “No one lays a finger on this sweet little boy.” Dean and Jaime glanced at the Horseman. “Sam... I see you got the snack I sent you.”

“ _You_ sent?”

“Don’t worry. You’re not like everyone else. You’ll never die from drinking too much; you’re the exception that proves the rule. Just the way Satan wanted you to be.” He raised his hands, gesturing to the two demons that had moved forward. “Cut their throats. Have at them!”

“Sammy, no!”

“Sam!”

“Please, Sam, be my guest.”

Sam’s chest heaved as he closed his eyes and raised an open hand. Every demon in the restaurant suddenly jerked and twitched as black smoke spilled from their mouths. Dean and Jaime watched in shock as bodies dropped to the floor. Sam panted as he lowered his hand and looked at the Horseman. “No.”

“Fine. If you don’t want them, then I’ll have them.” Famine grinned as his mouth opened wide, and he made a _‘come here’_ motion with his hand. The black smoke that drifted over the floor rushed into his mouth, and he swallowed. Sam stepped forward, hand outstretched again, but Famine laughed. “I’m a Horseman, Sam. Your power doesn’t work on me.”

“You’re right.” He said. “But it’ll work on them.” He lowered his hand and clenched it into a tight fist. Famine’s grin fell as black smoke began to seep out of his stomach, and his mouth fell open as he screamed in pain. Blood dripped from Sam’s nose as he struggled to keep the hold he had on the Horseman. The black smoke burst out of Famine, flying in all directions. Dean and Jaime held up their arms to shield themselves. Famine went limp in his wheelchair, and Sam let out a gasping breath.

Dean stared at the Horseman’s body, and Jaime noticed movement near the floor. Castiel had moved away from the tin of meat, standing to his feet and wiping at his mouth. “Castiel!” She stepped over a few of the fallen bodies to reach him. He looked around the restaurant in shock before turning to her.

They then turned to Sam and stared at his blood-covered hands, clothes, face. Jaime glanced at Dean, and he shook his head as he turned away from his brother.

 

**FEB. 17, 2010**

Jaime sat on the wooden staircase that led to Bobby’s basement, her arms folded over her knees. Dean and Castiel stood outside the locked panic room as Sam shouted inside. He cried out, screaming for someone to help him. Dean shut his eyes, trying to block out his brother’s voice, and took a drink of his beer.

“That’s not him in there.” Castiel said. “Not really.”

“I know.” Dean swallowed.

“Sam just has to get it out of his system, then he’ll be—“

“Listen, I, uh...” Dean pursed his lips and pushed off the beam he had been leaning on. “I just need to get some air.”

Jaime stood up as Dean walked past her and up the stairs, not saying a word as he shut the basement door behind him. She watched the door for a moment, then moved down the steps to stand beside Castiel. They didn’t say anything to each other at first, before she finally asked, “Is Sam gonna be okay?”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded, stopping for a moment before he continued. “He’s been like this before.”

“I know. They mentioned it when we were in Oklahoma,” She said, “when you checked up on me after Carthage.”

“I remember.”

Jaime looked at Castiel before back to the panic room door. “So, what happened?” The angel glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. “They said that Sam started the apocalypse, that a demon got him addicted...to their blood.”

“In order to free Lucifer from Hell, seals had to be broken.” He started. “Sam became addicted to the blood of demons; it made him strong and granted him powerful abilities, like what you must have seen tonight. It helped him kill Lilith—the first demon. She was the final seal that allowed the devil to walk the Earth, bringing about the start of the apocalypse.”

Jaime frowned as Sam’s screaming became louder, sounding even more pained than before.

“What I’d like to know is why Famine said that.” She turned back to Castiel, and his blue eyes locked with hers. She raised a brow at him, confused, and his face became stern. “Don’t play the fool, Jaime—what did he mean by Lucifer wanted to see you, to _‘finish the job?’_ ”

She tensed up and swallowed, but did her best to calm down. “I—I don’t know.” She faced away from him, scratching at her arm. “He... I don’t know, I mean, he’s gotta know I exist, right—that I’m the vessel of God? So, he... He probably wants to—to _shake my hand,_ or something.” Castiel’s frown deepened. “Maybe... Maybe he wants to ask God for—for forgiveness—I don’t know, Castiel, I just... I don’t know, okay; don’t worry about me, I’m fine.” She turned to leave, but Castiel moved forward and gripped her arm. She froze and looked down to where he held her, over her concealed burn, before looking to his face.

His hard expression hadn’t changed. “I have to worry about you, I have to make sure you’re safe.” His grip tightened, and she shivered. “Don’t keep things from me, Jaime.”

“I’m not keeping anything from you.” She yanked her arm away from him and held her wrist, turning from him. She could feel his eyes on her, but he didn’t say anything more. “I’m gonna go check on Dean.” Sam’s voice began to fade as she moved away from the panic room and walked up the stairs, out the basement door.

She looked around Bobby’s living room as she closed the door behind her. The back door that led out to the salvage yard was open, and she wrapped her arms around herself when she walked out into the freezing night air. She moved through the cars and car parts, and ended up walking along a chain link fence before she realized where she was. It was the same area she had ran to the night they got back from Carthage. As she got closer to the back of Bobby’s property, she saw Dean leaning against the fence, facing the sky.

“Dean.”

He turned to see who was behind him and quickly faced away from her, but she had seen it. He was crying. He lifted a hand to face, rubbing at his eyes. “H—Hey, kid. What, uh,” His voice sounded shaky, and he cleared his throat, “What are you doing out here?”

She moved a little closer. “I just...wanted to see if you were doing okay.”

“Yeah, I—I’m fine.” He sniffed. “I’m fine.” Jaime’s fingers dug into her arms, and it was quiet before she heard him chuckle. “It’s just... It’s crazy, you know? It... It’s too much.” He turned to face her, and she could see the streaks left by the tears on his cheeks.

Jaime sighed as she watched him. Dean shifted under her gaze, and he bit his lip as a shaky gasp left him. He ran a hand through his hair as another tear fell down his face, shaking his head. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

“I just...” A choked sob escaped him, and he put a hand over his mouth. “I can’t... I need some help.” He moved away from the fence and walked towards her. He leaned forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “Please... Please, help me.”

She closed her eyes. _He’s not talking to me. He’s talking—He’s praying to God._ “Dean... It won’t work, He can’t—I can’t—“

“No, don’t.” His hands moved to hold her arms, and he lowered his head beside hers. She heard him sob again and could feel the fabric at her shoulder getting damp. “Don’t say that. Just, please... Please, help me.”

Jaime didn’t move as he cried, and she felt his hands tighten on her arms. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is done!!!!  
> i really liked writing this chapter since this is one of the episodes i enjoy. i liked writing the scene in the morgue and i really enjoyed the scene where jaime gets kidnapped because i'm not a nice person to my kid. the scene with dean and the valentine's day gifts was really cute, too.  
> holy crap, chapter 4 used to be my longest chapter but now it's this one at 38 pages and exactly 11700 words!!! that's a lot @ _ @  
> i'm not too excited about the next chapter, so it might take longer to post than this one did...  
> title is Hungry Heart, and it's a song by Bruce Springsteen!


	10. Zombies Ate My Neighbor

**BYRON, MINNESOTA — FEB. 20, 2010**

“Hey, Jaime, check this out.” Sam turned his laptop around to face the redhead, and she leaned forward in her chair to look at the article on the screen.  “There’s another case in Sioux Falls.”

She skimmed through the short paragraphs.  Apparently, a man had witnessed a murder the night before—just five miles from Bobby’s home and salvage yard.  “A murder?” She looked up at Sam.

“Yeah, get this,” He turned his laptop back to face him, “the guy who saw the murder said he recognized the guy who did it.  Thing is, the murderer—Clay Thompson—has been dead for five years.”

Her eyebrows shot up.  “Whoa.”

“Yeah, whoa.” Sam repeated.  He grabbed his cell phone and held down one of the buttons, and the line rang a few times before someone answered.  “Hey, we got a case in Sioux Falls we can probably get to today.” He paused.  “Yeah, see you.” He hung up and set the phone down on the motel table.

 “Is Dean on his way?”

“Yeah, he’s grabbing some breakfast.  We’ll head out when he gets back.”

Jaime nodded, stretching her arms out in front of her and rolling her head back on her shoulders.  She lowered her head against the table and faced the star-shaped clock that hung between the two beds.  It was nearing eight in the morning, and she hadn’t gotten much sleep, as usual, and decided to try and get a few more minutes in.  She heard Sam chuckle, and she cracked an eye open to glare up at him lightheartedly.  He shrugged, and she closed her eyes again.

 

**SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA — FEB. 20, 2010**

“So, if the murderer was dead and came back to life, does that mean he’s a zombie?” Jaime asked, not entirely serious.

Dean shrugged as he parked the Impala in front of a diner, one where they had agreed to meet the witness.  He looked in the rearview mirror as he adjusted his tie.  “That’s what we’re here to find out, kid.”

She slouched against the back seat.  “Zombies…  That sounds a little out there, don’t you think?” _But this could be something supernatural, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised if it turns out to be zombies._ “Is it okay if I wait here?”

“Sure.” The brothers climbed out of the car and shut the doors.  Sam leaned down to look at Jaime through the windows.  “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She nodded and watched as they walked into the diner.  She reached into the duffel bag beside her and pulled out the fake badge Sam had made her.  _Mandy Pepperidge._ “What a name.” She muttered, glancing up and spotting the boys sitting at a booth by one of the windows.  A man with an unkempt later of scruff on his face sat across from them.  She sighed and rested her head against the car window.

Her eyes moved from the diner down to her right wrist, lying limp over her black skirt.  She pulled back the sleeves of her blazer and shirt, exposing the healed but still scarred skin.  She ran her fingers over the wound—the skin had risen a bit but still felt unnaturally smooth.  She wrapped her left hand around the wound, matching hers with how Lucifer’s had been.

_His hand is so much bigger than mine…_ Her arms fell back onto her lap, but she turned her wrist over a few times to look at the entireness of the burn.

She thought back on what happened in the motel room, just barely a week ago.  She remembered the devil himself showing up at the door and threatening her, holding her up against the wall, and then nothing.  She knew she must have blacked out, but didn’t know what happened between then and when she came to.  And when she came to, the devil had her in his arms.  Then he kissed her.  She lifted a hand to trace a finger over her chapped lips.  Her brows furrowed at the memory of the confusing sensations that had plagued her body when their lips met.  She became lost in her thoughts as her vision tunneled, everything around her fading.

“Excuse me.”

A firm voice accompanied by a gentle knocking on the window startled Jaime, and she jumped in her seat a bit, before she turned to see who had spoken.  A woman in a tan police uniform, with her shoulder-length hair tied into a small ponytail and her hands in a large brown jacket, leaned down to peer at the redhead sitting in the car.  She looked around the inside for a moment before meeting Jaime’s eyes.  “Sheriff Jody Mills.” She said.

Jaime hesitated and glanced towards the diner.  She saw Sam and Dean looking at her from their booth.  The woman—Sheriff Mills—followed her gaze and saw them as well, then turned back to Jaime.  “Uhm…  Hello.” She said, voice cracking some.  She cleared her throat with a small cough.  _I spaced out…  What happened in the diner?_

“You with them?” Jody nodded her head towards the brothers.

 “I’m sorry?”

 “I said, are you with those _agents_ in the diner?”

 “Uh…” She looked back to Sam and Dean, but they had turned away.  “No.” She answered, facing the sheriff.

The woman in uniform watched Jaime for a moment, her brown eyes narrow and scrutinizing.  Jaime did her best not to fidget.  “Mhmm.” Jody finally settled on.  “Listen, I’m gonna let you _agents_ off on this one, but if I see you causing any kind of trouble in town, I won’t hesitate to end it myself.  Understand, Miss…”

 “Pepperidge.” Jaime said without missing a bit.  It sounded too rehearsed.  “Mandy Pepperidge, and yes, I understand, Sheriff.”

The sheriff hummed as she pushed away from the car.  She crossed her arms, staring down at Jaime, then uncrossed them after a beat of silence and put her hands on her hips.  “Well then,” She nodded and turned to walk away, “you have a nice day, Miss _Pepperidge._ ”

Jaime watched through the rear window as the sheriff walked around the police car parked behind the Impala— _When did that get there?_ —and climbed into the driver’s seat.  They continued to stare at each other as she started the car and drove away.  Jaime let out a heavy breath of air and slumped forward in her seat.  She held her head in her hands as she chewed her lip.  An encounter with a _real government official_ was not something she had planned on doing any time soon.

“Hey!” Another voice, this one louder than the sheriff’s, caused Jaime to jump once again.  Sam and Dean approached the Impala—Sam looking a bit stressed, while Dean wore a more irritated expression.  The older Winchester held his arms out at his sides.  “What the hell happened?  Why didn’t you run inside and help us?”

“I’m sorry!” She defended.  “I wasn’t paying attention; I didn’t see her park or go inside, or anything.” Dean shook his head as he and his brother opened the car doors.  “What happened?  Did that guy in there tell you anything?”

“Kind of.” Sam answered.  “The sheriff showed up before we could get any real information.”

            “She knew Bobby; our whole cover was blown!” Dean tossed a hand up, still upset over what went down in the diner.  He turned to Jaime.  “Why weren’t you paying attention; what was more important than keeping an eye out for the law?”

“Dean.” Sam warned gently, noticing how Jaime shrunk back against the leather upholstery.

She continued to chew her lip as Dean stared her down.  Her eyes moved away from his, unable to keep the contact.  “I…  I was thinking about the case.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just…  I was thinking of the different ways someone could’ve come back to life.” She lied.  “Maybe a—an angel, or a curse, or something.”

Dean seemed to believe her, because he sighed and faced forward as he turned the car on.  “We’re heading to Bobby’s.” He said.  “He needs to explain himself.”

“Okay.” She nodded, even though neither of them noticed.

 

“Do you know how many times we called?” Dean asked not even a minute after Bobby let them in.  “Where have you been?”

“Playing murder ball.” Bobby shot back as he wheeled into his study.

Jaime’s nose scrunched up as she sniffed the air.  “It smells nice in here.”

“What?” Dean inhaled a few times through his nose, before he looked down at Bobby, a brow raised in question.  “Is that soap?  Did you clean?”

“What are you, my mother?  Bite me!”

“Bobby, seriously.” Sam said, trying to dissolve the building tension.

“I’ve been working.  Y’know, trying to find a way to stop the devil.”

“Find anything?”

The older man sighed and shook his head.  “What do _you_ think?”

“It’s just…” Sam paused as he leaned against the single desk in the study.  “There’s a case a few miles from your house.”

“What, the—the Benny Sutton-thing?” He looked between the three of them, eyes narrow in irritation.  “That’s what this is about?”

“You knew about this?”

“Hell yes.  I checked into it already; there’s nothing here.”

“Except a witness who saw a dead guy commit a murder.” Sam stated matter-of-factly.

“What witness?  Digger Wells?” Bobby asked, looking between them again.  Jaime assumed that was the name of the man Sam and Dean questioned in the diner.  “He’s a drunk.”

“What about the lightning storms?  They look like omens.”

“Except in February in South Dakota in storm season.  Guys, I thought it was something too, but sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”

“Then who killed Benny?” Jaime asked.  _Nothing’s happening?  That can’t be right._ There was always something happening; that’s a fact she learned quickly once becoming more acquainted with the hunter lifestyle.

“Take your pick.” Bobby shrugged.  “The guy was a grade-A son of a bitch.  There’s a list of the _living_ a year long that wouldn’t mind puttin’ a cap in his ass.”

“So, you’re telling us there’s no case?”

“Sorry.  Looks like you wasted a tank of gas on this one.”

Dean turned to his brother, sighing.  “Great.” The two of them moved to leave, but Dean stopped and turned to Jaime.  “You wanna change out of your suit, kid?”

“Hm?” She looked up, and Dean gestured to his own FBI outfit.  “Oh.  Yeah, sure.” He followed his brother outside the back door they had entered from.  Jaime stayed inside and looked at Bobby.  It was then she noticed how different he looked from when she had first met him.  His hair had been styled back, unaccompanied by the baseball-style cap he always wore, and his moustache and beard looked trimmed and even.  His brown flannel was buttoned up almost all the way, and it looked like his pants had been ironed as well.  “Bobby, you look nice.”

He frowned.  “So?”

“Well…  Why, I guess?”

“A guy can’t decide to look nice and clean his house without being judged?”

“No, that’s not what I—“

“I had some errands to run in town earlier.  Had to look _‘presentable.’_ ” He brought his fingers up to make air quotes over the last word.  “And as for my house, it’s spring cleaning, ya nosy kid.”

Jaime’s mouth tilted into a skeptical frown.  It’s not that she didn’t believe Bobby, it’s just…  She wasn’t sure what was really going on at the moment.  It was then that Sam and Dean came back inside, carrying three duffel bags with them.  Sam handed her the smaller one—it was hers, and she didn’t have very many things inside of it yet.  She took it and headed to the upstairs bathroom to change.

 

It was a little after ten at night when Sam suggested they should head out.  Dean and Jaime both agreed.  The brothers gathered up a few things from around Bobby’s house, and at one point disappeared into the basement before reappearing almost ten minutes later.  While they restocked, Jaime finished up a bit of reading: a section in one of Bobby’s many lore books about the devil.

It hadn’t told her much, unfortunately, or at least not anything she wanted to know.  She closed it and set it on the couch bed underneath the large window, before she stood up and stretched a little.  She helped Sam and Dean carry their new supplies to the Impala and climbed in the backseat.  She rested her forehead against the cool window, closing her eyes and letting herself drift off.

No more than an hour later, she was woken up by the sound of car doors opening and closing.  She lifted her head and saw Sam and Dean getting back inside the Impala.  “What’s going on?” She slurred, her body still trying to wake up.  “Where are we?”

“Still in Sioux Falls.” Sam answered.  Jaime looked out the window and saw a cemetery sign hanging above a metal fence.  “We checked Clay Thompson’s grave, and he wasn’t in it.”

“What?  But Bobby said—“

“I don’t care about what Bobby said.” Dean interrupted, roughly turning the key and driving off.  “I don’t know what’s going on, but something stinks.”

 

**FEB. 21, 2010**

Jaime held Dean’s flashlight towards the door handle as he quietly picked the lock to Clay Thompson’s home.  It was well past midnight now, and if Clay Thompson really was dead, then they would have nothing to worry about once they broke in.  Her hands shook a little when it dawned on her that she was helping Sam and Dean _break into someone’s house._   There was a gentle **_CLICK,_** and Dean slowly pushed open the front door.

He took his flashlight from her, and she followed him inside.  The interior of the house looked relatively well-kept, and she heard Sam shut the door behind them.  The brothers shined their lights through the house—over the photos on top of a stone fireplace, up and down the wood walls—before Sam split off from Dean and Jaime and headed to another part of the house.  Jaime followed Dean into what looked like an office and watched as he walked over to a small desk and flashed his light over a few papers.

The sound of feet on the hardwood floor made her turn around, just as a man in a grey shirt ran forward and swung a bat at Dean.  “Watch out!”

He ducked immediately, and the bat struck a large photo on the wall, shattering the glass frame.  Dean’s tight fist connected with the man’s stomach.  He doubled over in pain and dropped the bat.  Jaime was pushed aside as Sam ran to his brother, his shotgun against his chest.  The man hid his face from them as he spoke.  “Don’t shoot me, please!  Th—There’s money in the safe!”

“We don’t want your money.”

The man looked up at Dean.  Jaime grimaced when his face caught in the light, revealing his sickly pale skin.  “What do you want?  Anything, please.”

“You’re Clay Thompson, right?”

He looked to Sam, starting to stand on his feet.  “Who are you?” His voice sounded guarded now.

“Uh…”

“We’re FBI.” Jaime said.

“FBI?” Clay Thompson looked at her, eyes narrow before looking between all three of them.  After a moment, his eyes widened.  “Oh, my God, this is about Benny.”

“Wh—What about Benny?”

“He killed me, shot me in the back!  I’m just supposed to let him get away with that?”

“Hold up, are you…  Are you confessing?” Dean moved his flashlight to shine directly in Clay’s face.  He raised his hands defensively.

“Please,” He begged, “I’ll go with you.  Just—Just don’t wake my kids.”

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.  “Go with us…where?”

“Jail.”

The brothers looked at each other again.  “Let me get this straight,” Dean began, “you’re Clay Thompson, and you died five years ago?”

“Yes.”

“And three days ago, you climbed out of your grave and killed Benny Sutton?”

“Yes.”

“So, you _are_ a dead guy?”

“I guess, I—I don’t know what I am, okay?”

The three stared at the man—the _dead-now-alive man_ —in bemusement.  “Clay?” The silence was broken when a soft, female voice spoke.  A blond woman in a floral robe looked at the scene in front of her, terrified.  “I called 9-1-1.”

“It’s okay, honey, they’re FBI.” Clay explained to the woman.  “They’re here about Benny.”

“Mr. Thompson, why don’t you come with us.  I think that’d be best.” Dean said, putting on his best professional voice.  Clay nodded and gave the woman—his wife, Jaime assumed—a tender look before he walked towards the front door.  Jaime, Sam, and Dean were still a little speechless as they followed after him.

As they followed Clay down the front porch steps, Dean slowly pulled out his pistol from beneath his jacket.

“Dean.”

“What?” He said, turning to his brother.  “He’s a monster, Sam.”

“He’s a _soccer dad._ ”

“Well, what do you wanna do with him?”

“Maybe we should—“

“Freeze!” A loud voice and an incredibly bright light in their eyes startled them.  They stopped walking, and Jaime could see two figures moving towards them.  “Drop your guns!”

Her eyes began to adjust to the light, and she saw Sheriff Jody Mills, accompanied by another uniformed officer, pointing a pistol at them.  _Oh, no._ Dean and Sam bent down and put their weapons on the floor.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, hey.  Remember the guy you said was dead and couldn’t possibly commit a murder?  Well, there he is.” Dean pointed at Clay, who had moved away when the sheriff had approached them.

“And?”

Jaime’s head whipped up to face the sheriff, an incredulous look on her face.  She turned to Sam and Dean, who both wore similar expressions to hers.

“ _’And?’_ ” Dean repeated.  “And, you’re welcome, for catching the undead killer zombie.”

“What he is or isn’t, that don’t give you the right to shoot him in the middle of the street.”

“ _Shoot_ me?”

Clay’s voice echoed a bit as he watched Sheriff Mills and her partner move behind Sam and Dean.  The officers pulled the brothers arms back and handcuffed them.  “You’re free to go, Mr. Thompson.”

“Free to go?” Dean tried to shift so he could look at the sheriff.

“I can’t believe you were gonna shoot me!”

“You’re a monster!”

“I’m a taxpayer!”

Jaime’s mouth fell open in shock as Clay walked back towards his house.  He shook his head in anger before he slammed the front door shut.  Suddenly, her arms were yanked behind her back.  Her chest tightened as she prepared to panic, remembering the demon’s hands on her during the case with Famine.  She turned and saw the sheriff handcuffing her, a disappointed glare on her face.  “I warned you.” She said.

The sheriff walked Jaime over to the police car and pushed her into the backseat.  She was forced tightly against Dean’s side when the door was shut.  “What’s going on?” She quickly whispered.

“I have no idea, but this is a load of crap.” Dean said, irritation and anger evident in his tone.

 

Jaime watched with wide, panicked eyes as officers and other lawbreakers moved past their cell.  Her leg bounced up and down anxiously as she sat on the cot across from Dean.  The sheriff and the officer with her had put them in a single, two-bed cell almost fifteen minutes ago.  Jaime could feel her palms growing clammy and her heart pounding quicker as each minute passed.

“So, what, the sheriffs on the take?” Dean asked, not looking at Sam or Jaime.

“I don’t think so.  Maybe the zombies are paying her off?” Sam suggested.  Jaime wasn’t sure if he was serious or not, but Dean shook his head.  They fell into silence for another few seconds, before Sam spoke up again.  “Hey.”

Jaime lifted her head to see him staring out into the front office.  She followed his gaze out the doors an officer had left open and was confused to see Bobby talking to the sheriff.

Dean scoffed.  “What, now they’re friends?”

“Seriously, what is going on?” Sam muttered, for what must have been the fifth time since they arrived in Sioux Falls.

The sheriff turned and started to walk towards their cell.  She unlocked it and held the door open for them.  “You’re free to go.” The three started to walk, but she cleared her throat before they left the holding room.  “If I see you causin’ anymore trouble, I won’t be so lenient, you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jaime answered, turning away and catching up to Sam and Dean.

Sam moved behind Bobby to push his wheelchair, and he was the first to speak up as they started to leave the police station.  “I thought the sheriff hated you?”

“She did, until five days ago.” Bobby admitted.

Jaime noticed how he sounded like he’d rather talk about something else.  “What happened five days ago?”

“The dead started rising all over town.”

“So, you knew about this?”

“Yep.”

Dean moved in front of the wheelchair, causing Sam to stop pushing Bobby.  “I think what Sam meant to say is, you lied to us?”

Bobby sighed and wheeled himself away from Sam and Dean, turning around to face them.  “Look, I told you there was nothing here, and there _isn’t_ —not for you.”

A tall, male officer passed by, and they lowered their voices.  Dean leaned forward, whispering, “There are zombies here, Bobby.”

“There’s zombies…and then there’s zombies.” He said.  That didn’t tell them anything.  “Come with me.” He turned around and moved towards the entrance.  They followed after him, still confused.

 

“All right, now that we’re here, you wanna tell us what the hell…” Dean trailed off as they entered Bobby’s study.  A woman looked up at them from a table that had been set up in the middle of the room, holding a few plates in her hands.  She was small, with short blonde hair and an apron draped over her soft-yellow dress, and wore a gentle smile on her round face.

“Oh, hey.” She glanced at Sam, Dean, and Jaime in surprise, but her smile didn’t waver.  “I didn’t realize you were bringing company.”

“It’s four in the morning, babe.  You didn’t need to cook.” Bobby wheeled over to her, his cheeks lifted as he smiled brightly.

“Oh, please, I’ll get some more plates.” The woman moved past the four of them into the kitchen.

Dean turned to Bobby.  “Who was that?”

“Karen.  My wife.”

“You’re _new_ wife?”

“My _dead_ wife.”

 

“Mm!” Dean hummed through a mouthful of pie.  “This is incredible, Mrs. Singer.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Karen said, still wearing that unwavering smile.  She turned to Jaime.  “I wasn’t sure if you all like apple pie or not, I hope that’s all right.”

Jaime shook her head, swallowing her bite.  “No, it’s fine.  It’s really good, thank you.”

She smiled again and walked over to Bobby, cutting him a slice from the pie tin in her hands.  He complimented the pastry, still wearing that bright smile.  “Could you, uhm, just give us a minute?” He asked.  Karen nodded and turned to walk into the kitchen, leaving the study doors open just a little.

Immediately, Dean and Sam put down their utensils, pushed away their plates, and faced Bobby.  “Are you crazy?  What the hell?”

Jaime swallowed another bite, eyes darting between the brothers and Bobby.  The older man sighed and rolled his eyes.  “I can explain.”

“Explain what, lying to us?” Dean continued.  “Or the American Girl zombie making cupcakes in your kitchen!?”

Bobby’s eyes narrowed.  “First of all, that’s my wife, so watch it.”

“Bobby, whatever that thing is in there, it is _not_ your wife.”

“And how do you know that?” He turned to Sam, eyes still glaring.

“Are you serious?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?  My dead wife shows up on my doorstep, I’m not gonna test her every way I ever learned?”

“So, what is it?” Jaime asked.

“Hell if I can tell.” Bobby shrugged.  “She’s got no scars, no wounds, no reaction to salt, silver, holy water—“

“Bobby, she crawled out of her coffin.”

He shook his head.  “No, she didn’t.  I cremated her.  Somehow, someway, she’s back.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Did you bury her ashes?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“In the cemetery.  That’s where they all rose from.”

“How many?”

“Fifteen, twenty.” He reached in the breast pocket on his flannel and pulled out a folded piece of paper.  “I made a list.” He handed it to Sam when the hunter reached for it.  “There’s Karen, Clay, and Sheriff Mills—her little boy came back.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look of understanding when Bobby mentioned the sheriff.  “And there were no signs?  No omens?”

“Well, there were the lightning storms.”

“But you said those were normal this time of year.”

“What else?” Dean asked, brushing off Jaime’s comment.

Bobby looked down at his plate of untouched pie, not sure of what else he could tell them.  Jaime furrowed her brows in thought for a moment, then suddenly stood out of her seat.  She moved to the small desk that had been pushed away to make room for the dinner table and rifled around the mess of papers and books on top.  Three pairs of eyes watched as she pulled a book, labeled _‘Holy Bible,’_ from beneath a few other books.  She opened it up to a page that had been marked with a post-it note that read _‘Seventh Seal.’_

“It’s Death.” She said, remembering the night they had gone to face the devil in Carthage.  The same night Ellen and Jo died.  She shook her head and turned around, laying the book on the table for the hunters to see.  “ _’And through the fire stood before me a pale horse.  And he that sat atop him carried a scythe, and I saw since he had risen, they, too, shall rise, and from him and through him.’_ ”

They stared at each other before Dean spoke.  “So, Death’s behind this?”

“ _Death_ Death?” Sam asked.  “Like _‘Grim Reaper’_ Death?”

Jaime nodded.

“Awesome.” Dean groaned, bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead.  “Another Horseman,” He said before adding, “must be Thursday.”

“But why would Death raise fifteen people in a podunk town like Sioux Falls?” Sam stood up and moved beside Jaime, sliding the large book closer towards him.

“I don’t know.”

“You know, if Death is behind this, then whatever these things are…  It’s not good, Bobby.” Dean said.  “You know what we have to do here.”

Bobby didn’t look away from the young hunter.  “She doesn’t remember anything, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Being possessed, me killing her…  Her coming back.”

“Bobby—“

“No, no, don’t _‘Bobby’_ me, just…  Just listen, okay?” Bobby tilted his head towards the kitchen.  Jaime looked in the space left open between the study doors.  She could see Karen standing at the stove, fiddling with something in a large pot.  She was humming a soft and happy tune, unaware of the conversation going on in the study.  “She hums when she cooks.” Bobby said.  “She always…used to hum when she cooked.  Tone deaf as all hell, but…” His voice fell into a whisper when he looked up at the three.  “I never thought I would hear it again.”

Jaime saw Sam and Dean give each other troubled looks, and Bobby began to look a little desperate.  “Look, just read _Revelation._ The dead rise during the apocalypse; there’s nothing in there that says that’s bad!  Hell, maybe it’s the one good thing that comes out of this whole bloody mess.”

“And what would you do if you were us?”

Bobby lowered his head.  “I know what I’d do.  And I know what you think you gotta do.  But I’m begging you.  Please.” He raised his head, and his desperation had only grown when he looked at them.  “Please, leave her be.”

 

Things felt awkward after the confrontation with Bobby about his wife, so Dean had driven them to a diner that was open early in the morning.  They had only eaten the pie Karen made for them, so real food sounded greatly appealing.  Jaime ordered a plate of eggs and hash browns with a sweetened coffee, while Sam and Dean had both gotten their coffee black—Dean had ordered himself a small bowl of oatmeal, as well.  They all had their own thoughts about what to do, but no one was sure about how to approach the situation, given Bobby’s threat and plea.

Sam was the first to speak up.  “So, what do you think?”

“There’s nothing to think about.” Dean answered.  “We’re not gonna leave Bobby at home with the bride of Frankenstein.”

“Then what do we do?” Jaime asked.  “Bobby’s not gonna be very happy if we go back there and shoot his wife in the face, y’know.”

“If she decides her husband’s face is the blue plate special, I’d like to be there.”

“Fine.” Sam agreed with a soft sigh.  “You head over there, and I’ll see what else we can find.” He shifted in his seat so he faced Jaime.  “You’re with me on this, okay?”

“Why?”

His brows knit together, not expecting her to ask.  “Because _if_ Karen decides to take a bite out of Bobby, it’d probably be better with one of us there, not you.”

“What if the other people who came back decide to take bites, too?”

“Then you’ll be a great help to me, all right?  Satisfied?”

She nodded and took a sip of her coffee.

 

Jaime and Sam had been going down the list Bobby had given them, checking on the people who had risen from the dead.  So far, however, nothing seemed out of the ordinary—aside from the no-longer-dead people now living.  Most of them looked to just be carrying on with life as if they had never died.

She stood at the end of the walkway that led up to Sheriff Jody Mills’ house, waiting for Sam to come back and tell her what he saw.  She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as her breath left her in gentle puffs.  It was freezing in Sioux Falls.  Her eyes glanced down the street, keeping a look out for anyone that might pass by.

Heavy footfalls moved towards her from behind, and she turned around to see Sam striding over.  “What’d you see?”

“The same as everyone else,” He shook his head, “a zombie that rose from the dead, but not…acting like a zombie.  The sheriff was reading a book to her kid—her _dead_ kid.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, exactly.” They started down the road again.  “It’s just…  It’s too weird, you know?  Everything’s just too… _normal._ ”

Jaime nodded and looked over the houses that lined the street.  Sam was right; the people of Sioux Falls could claim to have seem some strange things before, but they should have been absolutely terrified when their loved ones came back to life.  Instead, they embraced the incredibly unusual development and accepted the living dead as if they were long lost family members—which some of them were.

They turned down a new block, and Sam lowered his gaze to Jaime.  He hadn’t really had a moment recently to take look at her, but he could now see how frazzled her hair was and how deep the bags under her eyes were.  There were hints of yellowing bruises that peeked out against her collarbones, as well.  He pursed his lips.  “Hey, Jaime?”

“Hm?”

“I just...  I wanted to say I’m sorry, about what happened with Famine.” He saw her tense up, and it made him feel even worse.  “I’m sorry.  I couldn’t…  The blood was the only thing on my mind—it was all I could think about—and…and I feel awful that you ended up in that kind of danger because of me.”

When she looked up at him, his head was hung low and he stared down at the ground—not her.  She sighed.  “It’s okay, Sam.”

“No, it’s really not—“

“Please.” She begged.  His raised his head.  “It wasn’t you, it was Famine.  He made you crazy for blood, it wasn’t you then; it was him.  You couldn’t control yourself, and I understand that, but please, please don’t blame yourself.”

His eyes moved over her face before he nodded.  Jaime’s fingers played with the hem of her jacket sleeves as they continued down the street.

Eventually, they reached the home of the last person on the list: a woman named Ezra Jones.  They walked up the paint-peeled, rotting-wood porch steps, and Sam knocked loudly against the front door.  Jaime waited at the top of the steps, keeping an eye out like she had been at every house they visited.  Knuckles hit wood again as Sam called out, “Mrs. Jones?” No answer.

Jaime heard the younger Winchester sigh.  She turned around to talk to him, but he was staring at something by the door.  She followed his gaze and saw it: a few drops of what looked like fresh blood.

They locked eyes, and Sam stood up straight, looking to the street as he used his body to hide the way he roughly twisted the door handle.  It wasn’t locked and opened easily.  He walked in, calling out for Ezra Jones again.  Jaime followed and shut the door behind her.

Hard and wet coughing sounded out from a room off to the right side of the house.  They moved towards the room, and Jaime noticed that it was filled with all kinds of junk—she would even go as far as to call it all garbage.

Sam stopped and tapped her arm.  She turned and saw an older, rather sick-looking woman lying in a bed, sitting up against the metal frame.  “Uhm…  Mrs. Ezra Jones?” She asked.  The woman answered with a series of phlegmy coughs and raised her head, gesturing with a shaky hand for them to come closer.

They moved forward, just barely.  “Wh—What is it?” Sam asked hesitantly.  The woman coughed again, still gesturing.  Thick, white saliva dripped over the corners of her mouth.  “You think maybe you could…tell us from here?”

The old woman continued to beckon them.  Sam looked down at Jaime, and she immediately crossed her arms and shook her head, vigorously.  “No.”

“Oh, my…” Sam trailed off as he looked back to the woman.  “I’m gonna regret this.” He started to move closer towards her.  The disgusting coughing had quieted some, but even more white mucus dribbled from the woman’s mouth.  She continued to gesture for Sam to come closer.  He did, as slowly as he could, and leaned in so his ear was near her mouth.

Without warning, she lunged out of her bed and tackled him the ground.  He grunted as his back hit the floor and quickly held his arms up to keep the woman from clawing and biting at his face.  Jaime jumped at the movement, and she fumbled to grab the gun in her jacket pocket.

“Shoot her!” Sam yelled from the floor.

She did.  The woman had been so distracted trying to get to Sam, she didn’t notice Jaime until it was too late.  The gun was held up beside the rabid woman’s head, and Jaime pulled the trigger.  Blood and bits of viscera shot out from the exit wound, and the old woman collapsed to the ground.

“Sam, are you—Oh, gross!” Jaime grimaced when she saw the glob of thick, white spit that covered Sam’s left cheek.  “ _Please_ take a shower when we get back to Bobby’s.” She helped him off the floor, and he glared at her.

 

“Keep your damn voices down.  Karen’s upstairs.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, we’re a little tense right now.” Dean snapped as he, Sam, and Jaime followed Bobby into his study.  “Who’s Old Lady Jones?”

“The first one to come up.”

“First one to go bad.”

Bobby scoffed.  “She was always a nutty broad.”

“Exactly how nutty?” Jamie crossed her arms.

“Nutty like the way she ate her husband’s stomach?  Or the way she almost ate Sam?” Dean followed.  “Was that the level of nutty she was in life?”

“No.” Bobby answered.

“Look, Bobby, I feel for you.” Dean said.  “But you’ve got to acknowledge that you’re not exactly seeing this straight!”

Bobby’s frown deepened as he wheeled himself away from them.  Sam stepped closer to the older hunter.  “Bobby, whether you admit it or not, these things are turning, and we have to stop them—all of them.”

Jaime watched as Bobby turned around and pulled something out from the side of his wheelchair.  A pistol.  “Whoa, Bobby, what—?”

“Time to go.”

“What?”

“You heard me.  Off my property.”

“Or what, you’ll shoot?” Sam said, hands held up in defense.

“ _If_ Karen turns, I will handle it— _my_ way.”

“This is dangerous.” Dean said, but he went tense when Bobby pulled the hammer back.

“I’m not tellin’ you twice.”

They stared at Bobby, and after a few moments, Dean was the first to turn away.  “C’mon.” He said, walking towards the back door in the kitchen.  Sam followed, and Jaime went after him, giving Bobby one last worried look.

 

Dean parked the Impala just outside the fence that surrounded Bobby’s salvage yard.  He turned off the engine and let out a short huff.  “He’s crazy.”

“It’s his wife, Dean.”

“So, he goes _‘Full Metal Jacket’_ on us?  We’re his family, Sam.”

Sam tilted his head as he agreed.  “I know, but bigger fish, okay?  We got a bunch of zombies about to turn this town into a giant chew toy.”

“Yeah, and he’s alone in the house, makin’ _pie_ with one of ‘em!”

“All right, so?”

“So!” He paused.  Sam raised a brow, silently urging his brother to continue.  “I’m gonna have to go back there and—and—and kill her!”

“If Bobby sees you, he’s gonna kill you.” Jaime said, leaning forward in the back seat.

“Well, then I guess I won’t let him see me.”

Sam sighed.  “Okay.  Jaime and I will head into town and rescue everyone.”

“Just the two of us?” She asked.  Sam shrugged.  “No way, we’re gonna need some help.”

“Who?”

“What about the sheriff?”

“Jaime, last I checked, she was pretty pro-zombie.”

“Guess you’ll just have to convince her.”

Sam faced his brother.  “How?”

“I don’t know.” Dean looked out the windshield and started the car.  “You’re just gonna.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Jaime rolled her eyes as she slumped back in her seat.

 

“Do you think she’ll believe us?”

Sam sighed.  “I don’t know.  We’ll find out.”

Dean had dropped the two off a few houses down from the sheriff’s, so they wouldn’t draw too much attention.  When they finally arrived at her house, for a second time that day, Jaime peered into one of the front windows to see if anything was happening inside.  Her eyes widened when she saw a child, his front drenched in fresh blood, stalking towards the sheriff, who look absolutely petrified.  “Sam, we gotta get inside.”

“What?”

“The sheriff’s son already turned!”

Sam didn’t waste a moment as he yanked the front door open and ran inside.  Jaime could hear him ushering the sheriff to move, and he suddenly emerged from the house, pushing the woman down the porch steps.

“My husband!” She cried.

“Leave it, he’s dead!”

The sheriff turned around, shaking her head.  “That was not my son!”

“You’re right, it wasn’t.” Sam said.  He gripped her shoulder, and her blown-open eyes shot up to him, filled with distress.  “Listen, Sheriff, your town is in danger.  People are in danger, and we need to help them now.”

The sheriff looked away from him, carding her fingers through her hair and shaking her head.  Jaime took a small step forward.  She put her hands up beside the sheriff’s face but didn’t touch her.  “Sheriff, please, we need you to focus.  Can you do that for us?” The sheriff let her hands fall to her sides and looked past Jaime at her house.  Her breathing came out in deep, short, and shaking gasps.  “Sheriff?” Jaime repeated, lowering her voice and gently placing her hands on the woman’s shoulders.

Sheriff Mills closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath.  She swallowed hard and nodded.  “How do we put them down?”

“Head shot.” Sam answered.

She nodded and lifted a hand to tug at her hair again.  “We’re gonna need weapons.” Her voice cracked as she spoke.

“We can start by rounding up everybody we can find.”

“Is there a safe place we can take people?” Jaime gently squeezed the sheriff’s shoulder, getting her attention.

Her eyes darted around for a few seconds before she nodded again.  “Jail.”

“Right.” Sam said.  He turned back to the sheriff’s house, sighing as he pulled out his pistol.  “Just, uhm…  Give me a minute.”

Jody grabbed his arm, stopping him.  They stared at each other for a moment before Sam sighed, and the sheriff looked away as she let go.  Jaime watched as he entered the front door, and when he was out of sight, she turned to the sheriff.  The air around them was silent and tense for only a few seconds before a gunshot rang out.  Jaime kept her gentle hold on the sheriff as the woman squeezed her eyes shut.

 

Jaime and Sam had gone around Sioux Falls and gathered up as many people still alive and willing to go with them as they could.  It was easier to convince everyone when they had the sheriff with them.  Unfortunately, they weren’t able to find more than fifteen people, which was certainly not the whole town, but they didn’t exactly have time to run everywhere on foot and drag everyone to the police station.

Once all the townspeople were behind the locked station doors, Jody went to a tall cabinet and unlocked it.  She pulled out a few different types of guns—shotguns, pistols, even a rifle or two.  Sam handed a few to Jaime, and they began to distribute them amongst the small crowd of people.

“All right, if we hand you a gun and you see a dead person,” Sam started, “I don’t care if it’s your friend, your neighbor, or your wife, you shoot for the head.” Jaime heard the sheriff cock back a heavy-duty shotgun.  “That’s the only way we survive.”

“You mind telling us who the hell you guys are?” A heavy-set man stepped forward, obviously in disbelief.

“Friends of Bobby Singer’s.” Sam said, his tone hinted with a bit of pride.

The man nodded, as if in understanding, before he said, “Town drunk.”

Sam paused.  “No, I—I thought…” He looked around before pointing to a scruffy-looking man slouching in a chair.  Jaime recognized him as Digger Wells, the same man Sam and Dean had questioned at the diner.  “ _He’s_ the town drunk.”

“Who told you that?” The man asked.

“Bobby Singer…” Sam said quietly.  The man nodded again and lowered his head.  Sam cleared his throat.  “Stay sharp.” He finished, and Jaime wondered if anyone in the room took him seriously.  He took the large shotgun that the sheriff handed him, whispering that he’d go watch the front.

“Where do you want me?” Jaime asked.

Sam looked down at her, thinking for a moment.  “Get a gun from the sheriff, then come with me.”

“You want me out front?” She asked, then added in a sarcastic voice, “Right in the _throes of danger?_ ”

“Yeah, Jaime, I do.” He said, moving ahead of her.  “You, the sheriff, and I are probably the only ones who know how to shoot straight in here.  So, get your gun, and meet me out front.”

“Aye-aye, Sam.”

 

Almost twenty minutes had gone by, and there hadn’t been any sign of zombified citizens outside of the police station.  Jaime leaned her head back against a wall, staring up at the ceiling.  She listened to Sam and the sheriff moved around the front room, opening the door occasionally to peer outside.

“So, what’s the plan?” The sheriff asked as she leaned against the receptionist desk.

“I don’t know.” Sam answered.  “I don’t know what the plan is at this point.”

“Maybe we should go look for Dean and Bobby.” Jaime suggested.

When neither of them answered, she looked up and saw them staring at her.  “That’s…not a bad idea, kid.” The sheriff said.

“Yeah, that sounds like a pretty good plan.” Sam agreed.  He glanced out one of the windows in the front room.  “The sheriff and I will go look for them, you stay here with everyone else.”

“What?  Sam, I can’t stay here, no one’s gonna listen to me.” She said.

“They’ll listen.  Just, make something up in case anyone tries to leave, but keep them here.”

“I…  Fine.” She stood up and started walking towards the back room, but stopped and turned back to Sam and the sheriff.  “I hope you guys don’t get eaten.”

“Yeah, you too.” Sam said.

“Stay safe.” Jody reached out and pressed a hand against Jaime’s shoulder.  Then she turned around and left the police station with Sam.

Jaime sighed and slumped forward a little, loosely clutching at her gun.  _How am I supposed to control of a bunch of adults who don’t believe in any of this crap?  I wasn’t even good with adults before all of this._ She looked at the door that separated the back room from the front office.  Her mouth turned into a small frown, but she quickly put on a neutral face as she pushed the doors open.

People had been muttering to each other, but they stopped when she walked in.  They all stared at her.  She looked around the room and swallowed nervously.  Her gun was held tight in her hands as she took a seat near the doors.

Not five minutes passed before she was approached.  “So…  What’s really going on?” Someone asked.  Jaime lifted her head and saw a tall man stepping towards her.

“You didn’t believe them?” She asked, and the man shook his head slightly, as if saying _‘of course not.’_   “Well, your back-from-the-dead loved ones have become mindless, bloodthirsty zombies, and I’m supposed to stay here and keep you all safe until the sheriff and Sam get back.”

Another man, the heavier one Sam had been talking to, scoffed loudly.  Jaime’s eyes narrowed.  “It’s just, I can understand you and the big guy goin’ nuts, but the sheriff?” He sat against the edge of a desk, putting his gun down and crossing his arms.  “What’d you say to convince her?”

“We didn’t say anything.”

“Then what happened?”

Jaime tapped a finger against the barrel of the shotgun, chewing her lip and staring at the floor.  When she looked up, everyone’s eyes were on her again.  “The sheriff’s son turned, and she found him eating her husband.” A few people gasped, while others looked at her in surprise.  “He was going to eat her if we didn’t do something.”

People murmured amongst each other again.  Jaime looked back down at the floor.  After a few seconds, she heard footsteps and looked up to see the tall man moving closer.  “Do you honestly expect us to believe that story?”

“Do I look like I care?” That caught him off-guard.  Jaime stood, not quite eye-level with the man, but definitely an improvement from where she had been sitting.  “Look, buddy, I’m tired, okay?  I’ve been in this _‘line of work’_ for about,” Her eyes rolled up, and she wiggled her hand, “a month now, and I gotta tell you—I _don’t care_ if you believe me or not.” The man opened his mouth to say something, but she continued.  “I don’t believe half the crap Sam or his brother tell me, but do you think they care?  No, just like I don’t.”

“You can’t just keep us here.” A woman spoke.  Jaime’s eyes shot over to her.  “We have rights, we have a choice if we want to leave or not.”

“Do you think I had a choice?” She asked.  The woman’s brow furrowed, not knowing what the redhead was talking about.  “Do you think I had a choice, when I was still a university student just trying to pass my classes?  That I had a choice, when I was forced— _forced_ —into this hell hole of a life?  Do you think that, now that I’m here, I will ever have a choice again?” She shook her head.  “We don’t get choices, you don’t get a choice.  You suck it up and deal with it, whether you like it or not.”

The room fell silent again.  The man who had approached Jaime took a few steps back, the woman lowered her head, and the heavy man pushed himself off the desk to go sit down.  Jaime sat back in her chair.

 “So, everyone is gonna suck it up, and we’re gonna wait here until Sam, Dean, or the sheriff get back.”

 

**FEB. 22, 2010**

No one talked to Jaime for the rest of the night.  Everyone in the station avoided looking at her, and she remained by the doors until the early hours of the next day.  She occasionally went to the front lobby to peek outside and see if there were any zombies around, which there hadn’t been at all.  As far as she knew, all the zombies had already been killed by Sam, Dean, Bobby, and the sheriff, or the zombies had already killed the four of them.

That last thought didn’t sit well with her.

It was close to four in the morning, if the clock on the wall was anything to go by, when Jaime heard noises coming from the outside station.  She moved quickly, telling the people to stay calm and stay put as she left to see what it was.  She walked up to the front doors and watched as one of handles jiggled back-and-forth slightly.  It had been locked about an hour ago, another layer of protection in case any zombified townspeople attacked the station.

Jaime raised her shotgun, aiming it at the door, and stayed silent.  Then, after a few moments, a voice called out, “Jaime, are you in there?  Open up!”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me!”

“Is everyone okay?” She asked, lowering her gun.

“Yeah, we’re…  We’re as okay as we can be, I guess.” He said after a small pause.  Jaime unlocked the door and opened it, stepping aside as the older Winchester moved past her into the station.  “Where’s everyone?”

“In there.” She pointed to the set of doors leading into the back room.  “I told them to wait.” Dean nodded and began to move away, but Jaime stopped him.  “What about Sam?  The sheriff, and Bobby?”

“They’re fine.” He told her.  “Sam and the sheriff are rounding up the zombies; they’re gonna take them to the cemetery and burn ‘em.”

“You have to burn zombies?”

Dean shrugged.  “Better safe than sorry.”

She nodded and followed him into the back room.

 

Jaime watched grimly as flames danced over the now-still body of Bobby’s wife.  Despite the heat coming from the makeshift pyre, everything else was cold.  Her hands were shoved deep into her coat pockets, and she glanced down at Bobby.  He said nothing as he watched the pyre burn.

The one in the cemetery hadn’t even been as somber.  Sheriff Mills had told them the townspeople were traumatized, that some of them had even been calling news stations, to no avail.  She thanked the three of them for dealing with the situation and apologized for her own disbelief.  They parted ways soon after and drove to Bobby’s.  No one had said a word after Dean parked the Impala.  Jaime didn’t think it was right for her to break the silence.

“So,” Bobby finally said, “I’m thinkin’ maybe I should apologize for losing my head back there.”

“Bobby…” Sam sighed.  “You don’t owe use anything.”

“Yeah.  It’s fine, Bobby.” Jaime said.

Bobby fell silent once again, so Dean decided to throw in his two cents.  “Hey, I don’t know squat from shinola about love, but…  At least you got to spend five days with her, right?” He gestured to the wrapped up, burning figure.

“Right.” Bobby answered.  He sounded absolutely drained.  “Which makes things about a thousand times worse.” He sighed.  One of Jaime’s hands started to play with the hem of her sleeve.  “She was the love of my life.  How many times do I gotta kill her?”

“Are you gonna be okay, Bobby?” Sam asked.  Bobby didn’t say anything, but Jaime could see the slight shake of his head.  Sam and Dean glanced at each other, somewhat knowingly.

“You three should know,” Bobby said, “Karen told me why Death was here.”

They looked at him, confused.  “What do you mean?”

“I know why he took a stroll through a cemetery in the sticks of South Dakota.” He paused to take a deep breath.  “He came for me.”

“What do you mean, you?”

“Death came for me.” He repeated, sounding a little more apprehensive than before.  “He brought Karen back to send me a message.”

“You?” Dean glanced at the fire then back to Bobby.  “Why you?”

“Because I’ve been helping you, you sons of bitches.” He said, turning to look at Sam.  “I’m one of the reasons you’re still saying no to Lucifer.”

Jaime tensed.  The name of the devil caused her to react without thinking, and she grabbed at her burned wrist, squeezing around the fabric of her jacket.  She gnawed on her lip as she tried to calm herself down, hating the fact that just his name caused her to become so fearful.

Dean noticed her small but sudden change in behavior.  He frowned but didn’t say anything.  He looked down at the ground as he spoke.  “So, this was like a hit on your life?”

“I don’t know if they wanted to take my life or…my spirit.  Either way, they wanted me out of the way.”

“But you’re gonna be all right.” Sam said.  Jaime couldn’t help but think he was saying it for his own sake.  “Right, Bobby?”

Bobby lifted his head to look up at the younger Winchester.  They shared something during the look, and judging by Sam’s slight change of expression, it wasn’t anything good.  Bobby faced the pyre after that.  It was then Jaime realized something she should have about a month ago: they weren’t going to be all right.  No one was going to be all right.  And they had no choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JESUS CHRIST THIS THING IS FINALLY DONE!!!! this one was a hard one for me to write, mainly because i'm not at all interested in this episode. don't get me wrong, i like almost every episode in s5, but when they don't have anything important in them--both plot-wise and fanfiction-wise--it takes me FOREVER to finish them. this was like that...
> 
> BUT NOW I CAN WORK ON THE OTHER PARTS IN THIS!!!! THE NEXT ONE IS ONE I'M PUMPED ABOUT!!!  
> also!! i'm planning on having a new schedule for uploading (as long as it lasts lmao). hopefully it'll work out, but i'm basically just writing and revising every chapter after i finish, and i'm planning not to upload them until i have every chapter planned for s5 done...which is??? i think 8 more??? eh.
> 
> anyway!! this chapter is probably the smallest as far as word count goes!! 32 pages and only a little over 9000 words, so that's pretty small considering all the other crap i've written for this thing
> 
> title is Zombies Ate My Neighbor by Single File~ the lyrics don't quite fit but the title does and sometimes that's all that matters,,,


	11. Say Yes

**DUMAS, TEXAS — FEB. 27, 2010**

Dean groaned as he started to wake up, shifting on the springy motel mattress.  His head throbbed a little due to his slight hangover, but it was nothing he wasn’t already used to.  On instinct, his hand slipped under his pillow and flattened out as he searched for something.  His eyes snapped open when he only felt bedsheets.

“Looking for this?”

Dean looked over his shoulder as he turned off his stomach.  A man in a black ski mask had a shotgun pointed at him and had Dean’s pistol in his other hand.  The stranger emptied the cartridge out of pistol then tossed it to the floor.

“Mornin’.” Dean smacked his lips together as he lifted himself into a sitting position.  He looked over at the other bed and saw Sam, already up with another masked man aiming a gun at him.  In front of the man was Jaime, and his large arm was wrapped tight around her neck and shoulders.  Her frightened gaze darted around the lavender-colored room, then down at the man’s arm, then over to Dean.  He frowned.

“Be quiet.” The man that had taken his gun ordered.  “Hands where I can see ‘em.”

Dean held up one hand while supporting himself with the other.  He stared at the masked man before he narrowed his eyes.  “Wait a minute.” Dean leaned towards the man.  “Is that you, Roy?” The man lowered his shotgun.  Dean smiled.  “It is, isn’t it?” Jaime and Sam watched curiously as he faced the other man.  “Which makes you Walt.  Hiya, Walt.”

The men looked at each other, before the one Dean called _‘Walt’_ lifted his mask over his forehead.  He used the hand holding Jaime, and the movement pulled her closer against him.  She grunted uncomfortably, hands reaching to hold onto his arm.  “Doesn’t matter.” Walt said.  The other man—Roy—did the same, and they kept their guns on the brothers.

“Is it just me, or do you two seem a tad upset?” Dean gestured to them.

“You think you can flip the switch on the apocalypse and just walk away, Sam?” Walt asked, his tone accusing.

Sam frowned.  “Who told you that?”

“We ain’t the only hunters after you.” Walt tilted his head towards Jaime.  “Didn’t expect to see you fellas with a girl, though.”

“Let her go.” Sam said.  He started to move, but Walt pumped his shotgun.

Jaime flinched away from the weapon, gasping as Walt’s hold tightened.  Sam stopped.  “What’s her story, huh?” Roy asked.  “She doesn’t look like the type you prefer—a little young, if you ask me.” They didn’t answer him, and Roy looked at Jaime.  “Then you tell us.  Why are you hangin’ around with these two?  Nothing but crap follows them, so why?”

Jaime looked at Roy, then at Sam and Dean, then back to Roy.  “They’re protecting me.”

Walt scoffed.  She tensed when she felt his breath brush against the back of her head.  “Protecting you?  These two screw-ups can’t even protect each other!”

“Someone after you or something?” Roy asked.

“Or something.” She said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?  Something’s really after you?” Roy looked at Sam and Dean, then back to Jaime.  “What is it?”

“Everything.”

“What do you mean, _‘everything?’_ ”

“Every creature on the planet is out to get’cha?” Walt asked.

“I…  I—I guess, I mean—“

“Jaime, don’t—“

Roy pumped his shotgun and stopped Dean in his tracks.  “I don’t wanna hear another word from you!”

Jaime struggled in Walt’s hold.  “No, please—“

“You’d probably be a lot safer with us than them.” Walt said.  “Maybe we just take you with us after killing Sam and Dean—find out exactly why every monster wants a piece of you.”

Her face paled.  “Wait!” Sam held an arm up, gaining the other hunters attention.  “Hear me out, I can explain, okay?” Walt stared at him, and Sam muttered a quiet, “Please.”

A loud shot suddenly rang out in the motel room, right beside Jaime’s ear.  Sam’s body jerked backwards, and he fell flat on the bed.  His shirt tore where the shotgun’s spread had entered.  Fresh blood immediately stained the front of the blue flannel.  Jaime let out a shuddering gasp, eyes widening.  Dean reached over for his brother, but Roy lifted his gun to stop him.

“Stay the hell down.” He threatened.

Dean and Jaime stared down at Sam’s body.  “Shoot him.” Walt said.  Jaime shook her head in a silent plea.

“Killin’ Sam was right,” Roy tried to rationalize, “but Dean’s just—“

“He made us, and we just snuffed his brother, you idiot.” Walt looked at Dean.  His green eyes raged as he stared at his brother’s corpse.  “You wanna spend the rest of your life knowing Dean Winchester’s on your ass?  ‘Cause I don’t.” Jaime swallowed as Dean’s jaw trembled.  “Shoot him.”

Dean turned and looked Roy in the eyes.  His expression made the hunter inch back.  “Go ahead, Roy.  Do it.”

“Dean, no, you can’t—“

“Be quiet!” Walt moved his arm so it pressed tighter against Jaime’s neck.  She winced as a choked sound escaped her.

“Do it.” Dean repeated, shifting on the bed so he fully faced Roy.  “But I’m gonna warn you, when I’m come back, I’m gonna be pissed.” The room fell silent until Dean shouted, “Come on!” Both Walt and Roy flinched.  “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The hunters stared at one another.  Roy’s finger hovered over the trigger of his gun, but he never fired it.  Walt rolled his eyes and sighed.  “Come on, already.” He let Jaime go and shoved her to the floor.

She landed on her hands and knees the same time another deafening shot rang out.  Jaime looked up and let out a terrified cry as she saw Dean’s body fall back against his bed.  He shuddered for a moment then went still.  She could feel herself shaking, unable to look away.  _He’s…  He’s dead.  He killed him.  S—Sam’s dead.  They’re both dead._

“We killed them…” Roy said to himself.

Walt looked at the bodies before he turned to Jaime.  “C’mon, girl.” He leaned down and grabbed her arm, roughly yanking her to her feet.

Jaime blinked out of the haze when he touched her.  She began to panic.  “No!  No, no, no, no, let me go!” She cried.  She scratched at him and struggled to get away.  “You—You killed them!  Sam and—and Dean!  They’re dead, you killed them!  No, let go!”

“Quit that!” Walt pulled the strap on his shogun over his shoulder with his free hand.  He then grabbed Jaime’s other arm, pulling them against her sides to stop her.  “It’ll be a lot easier on all of us if you just stop struggling!”

“ _No!_ ” She screamed.  She twisted around, getting an arm free and immediately lashing out.  Walt winced as she hit his face and shoulders a few times, but he didn’t let go.  Roy stood at the foot of Dean’s bed, waiting with his shotgun in case Jaime grew too much for Walt to handle alone.  She squeezed her eyes shut.  _Please!  Please, help!  I—I don’t know what to do; Sam and Dean are dead!  Please, I’m begging you, help me!_ She opened her eyes, but nothing had changed.  Nothing had happened.  He wasn’t listening to her.  She shook her head, biting her lip and closing her eyes again.  Tears fell down her face as she prayed.  _Please, someone!  Anyone!  Please help!  Castiel!  Castiel, please!_ “Cas, help me!”

“What the hell!?”

Jaime’s eyes snapped open.  Roy had his shotgun raised and aimed at something near the motel door.  She didn’t get to see what it was before she was shoved to the floor again.  Walt pumped his shotgun with a curse.  “Who the hell are you!?”

“Jaime, shield your eyes!”

She curled in on herself, burying her face in her arms as a bright light engulfed the room.  It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds.  When she lifted her head and looked around, Walt and Roy were gone.  Castiel stood in the corner by the door, blue eyes watching her.  Jaime sat up and stared at him, chest heaving with each breath.  He stepped toward her but stopped when she moved back.

The angel kept a few feet between them as he spoke.  “Jaime, are you all right?”

Castiel was suddenly pushed back as Jaime stood, ran to him, and slammed into his torso.  He grunted at the impact.  “Oh, God, Cas!  I’ve never been so happy to see you!” She sobbed, voice muffled against his shoulder.  Her arms hooked under his, and her hands clutched the fabric of his trench coat.

He looked down at her, startled by the closeness.  She normally kept him quite at bay.  “I, uh…  It’s…good to see you too, Jaime.” His arms slowly came around her, gently returning the embrace.  His hands rested against her shoulders blades.  Castiel looked around the room.  “Where are Sam and Dean?  Why didn’t they stop those men?”

“Sam and Dean…” She said quietly.  Her brows furrowed before she tensed and looked up at the angel.  “Sam and Dean!  Cas, they’re—“

“They’re dead.” He said, staring at the bodies of the two hunters.  Jaime lowered her head and let go of Castiel.  His arms fell to his sides.  “I need to make contact with them.”

“Contact, what…?  But Cas, they’re dead.”

“No, they’re not.  They’re in Heaven.”

 

Jaime watched Castiel’s hands move smoothly over the small table in the kitchen as he finished the last designs of the sigil he had drawn.  The old-fashioned radio that had been on the nightstand between the beds was in the middle of the chalk drawing.  She looked up at him.  He didn’t look at her, he was focused.  He connected the last lines then tossed the chalk aside.  His fingers splayed over the wood.  “I don’t know if this will work.”

“What?”

“I don’t know if this—“

“No, Cas, I heard you; what do you mean?”

“I’ve been cut off from much of Heaven’s power.” He admitted with a regretful shake of his head.  “Trying to form a connection with someone who has passed on is hard enough, but with someone whose soul has already entered Heaven?  At this point, I’m not sure if all this effort will have been worth it.”

Castiel’s expression became somewhat pessimistic.  Jaime laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.  “Hey.” She smiled when he looked at her.  “You managed to get Sam and Dean to the past and came back in one piece.  This should be easy, no problem.”

He looked at the radio.  “Yes.  Easy, no problem.”

Castiel turned on the radio.  It lit up and emitted some static sounds as he began to chant in Enochian.  His voice rumbled, and he closed his eyes.  After a few seconds, his eyes opened and he reached for the knobs on the radio.  “Dean?” He asked it.  Nothing.  His brows knit together in concentration as he turned the dials a few more times.  Jaime began to hear strange sounds coming from it—crickets, a soft wind, the overall stillness of the Earth at night.  “Dean!” Castiel waited before calling again.  “Dean!”

“Cas?”

Jaime let out a quiet, “Oh, my God,” she didn’t know she had been holding in.  Castiel sighed in relief.  “Yeah, it’s me.”

A car door opened and closed and was followed by soft rustling over the radio.  “You gotta stop poking around in my dreams.  I need some _‘me’_ time.” His voice sounded like soft static, but it was still his voice.

“Listen to me very closely.  This isn’t a dream.” Castiel leaned closer to the radio.

“Then what is it?”

“Deep down, you already know.” The angel lowered his head as the radio went silent.  Jaime grew worried as the silence stretched on.

“I’m dead.” Dean finally said.

“Condolences.” Castiel said flatly.  Jaime shot him a look.

“Where am I?”

“Heaven.”

“Heaven?” Another pause.  “How did I get to Heaven?”

“Those two hunters, Walt and Roy, they…” Jaime said.  “They shot you and Sam.”

“Jaime?  Oh, God, are you okay?” He asked.  “I remember Walt had you, and—“

“I’m fine, Dean.  Cas helped me.”

Castiel cleared his throat, and she let him speak.  “Dean, please listen.  This spell, this connection—it’s difficult to maintain.  I can only speak to you for so long.”

“Wait, if—if I’m in Heaven, then where’s Sam?”

“What do you see?”

“What do you mean, what do I see?”

“Some people see a tunnel or a river.” Castiel explained briefly.  “What do _you_ see?”

“Nothing.  My—My dash.  I’m in my car, I’m on a road.”

“All right, a road.  For you, it’s a road.” The static coming from the radio grew a little louder.  Castiel raised his voice.  “Follow it, Dean, you’ll find Sam.  Just follow the road.” The radio suddenly short circuited.  Jaime pushed away from the table as it sparked and crackled.  Castiel sighed.  “I hope he heard me.”

Jaime nodded.  She looked back at the beds, swallowing thickly and rubbing her arm uneasily.  “Hey, Cas?” She didn’t hear him answer but continued.  “Do you think…  Can you help me… _move_ their—them to the Impala?  I…  I need to sleep, but I don’t—I don’t think I can with…” She forced herself to look away from the bodies.

“Of course.”

Castiel found the car keys in one of Dean’s pockets.  Jaime unlocked the Impala and didn’t watch as the angel moved the bodies outside and placed them in the car.  It was just after four in the morning, and thankfully no one was awake yet to see what they were doing.  After Castiel put Sam in the front seat and Dean in the back seat, Jaime used extra blankets she had found in the motel closet to cover up their bloodied chests.  It made them look like they had fallen asleep in the car rather than shot dead and moved there.

Castiel closed the motel door after following Jaime back inside.  “Hey, Cas?” She faced away from him, nervously playing with her fingers.  “Could you, uhm…  Could you stay here?  With me?” Her teeth chewed on the inside of her cheek when he didn’t answer.  “I—I just, I’m kind of…  I’m afraid.”

“Of course.”

Jaime smiled as she stopped chewing her cheek and thanked him.  He helped her remove and dispose of the bloody bedsheets and put clean ones over one of the mattresses.  She curled up on the far side of the bed.  Castiel sat at the kitchen table.  The sound of his steady breathing was all she heard as she drifted to sleep.

 

Jaime woke up a few hours later.  Castiel was still sitting at the table.  She rubbed her eyes as she sat up, and he shifted in his chair when he saw her move.  “How did you sleep?”

“Aside from what happened a few hours ago, fine, I guess.” She admitted with a shrug.

“That’s good.” He said.  It was silent in the room after that.  Jaime leaned down to grab her clothes from off the floor.  She got out of the bed and walked to the bathroom, but a hand on her arm stopped her.  She turned around, and Castiel stared at her with unblinking blue eyes.  They didn’t say anything to each other for a moment, then, “ _’Cas.’_ ”

“What?”

“When you called out to me.  You said _‘Cas.’_ ”

“I did?”

He nodded.  “It was the first time you’ve called me that.”

“Oh.” She looked down at his hand around her left forearm.  “Yeah, I…  I figured _‘Castiel’_ was a mouthful, given the situation I was in.” She slipped her arm out of his grasp and continued towards the bathroom.  “Cas is shorter, and…easier to say, I guess.”

“Do you like it?”

“Huh?”

“ _’Cas.’_ ” He repeated.  His blue eyes still watched her.  “Do you like it?”

She licked her lips.  “Yeah, I guess.  It’s nice.” They stared at each other for another moment before Jaime turned away.  “I’m gonna shower.” She kept her head down as she shut the bathroom door.

Jaime leaned her head back against the wood, letting out a pent-up sigh.  She dropped her clothes on the floor by the toilet and turned on the shower.  Warm steam slowly filled the room, and she pulled off her long-sleeved shirt and stepped out of her sweatpants.  Hot water caressed her skin when she stood under the showerhead.  She looked down at her right arm.  The healed burn from Lucifer’s hand shone as the water rolled off it, and a phantom pain throbbed up to her shoulder.

_Lucifer…_ She chewed her lip as she clenched and unclenched her hand.  _Should I tell Cas?  I don’t want him to worry.  He’s got so much to deal with already, I shouldn’t…_ She rubbed the soapy motel body wash over her skin and let it slide down when the water hit it.  _No.  No, I have to tell him.  I can’t keep something like this a secret forever; he has to know._

The rest of her shower went by fast.  She turned the water off and used a white towel to dry herself.  She could hear voices—more than one—coming from outside the bathroom, and she quickly put on her maroon, long-sleeved baseball tee and dark jeans.  She opened the door and saw Castiel speaking to the static-filled television.

“You need to find an angel.  His name is Joshua.” One of his hands hovered over the power button as he crouched in front of the T.V.  Jaime could see Sam and Dean’s faces through the static.

“Hey, no offense, but we are kind of ass-full of angels, okay?” Dean said.  “ _You_ find him.”

“I can’t.” Castiel said.  He glanced at Jaime when she moved beside him.  “I can’t return to Heaven.”

Sam’s voice came through the static.  “So, what’s so important about Joshua?”

“The rumor is he talks to God.” Castiel gripped the edges of the television.  Jaime looked at the floor.

“And?”

“You think maybe—just maybe—we should find out what the hell God’s got to say about all this?” The angel glared at the faces on the screen.  Jaime brought her hands up to hold the towel around her neck.  “We know He can’t speak through Jaime, and I’m not sure anything we’ve been saying is getting through to Him, either.  Joshua is our best hope right now.” He sighed.  “Please.  I just need you to follow the road.”

“What road?”

“It’s called the Axis Mundi; it’s a path that runs through Heaven.  Different people see it as different things.  You see it as a two-lane strip of asphalt.” He explained.  “The road will lead you to the Garden.  You’ll find Joshua there, and he can tell us what we need to know.” Castiel leaned closer to the T.V. as the picture started to worsen.  “The Garden.  Hurry.” Then the screen went black.

The angel sighed and pushed himself onto his feet.  He stared at the blank screen, just like he had when the radio short circuited.  Jaime couldn’t bring herself to look at him when she spoke.  “Cas, can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course, Jaime.” He turned away from the T.V.  “I will always have time to speak with you.”

“Okay.” She moved to sit down on the bed she had slept on.  Castiel followed and sat beside her.  Her hands shook a little, and she played with her fingers to stop them from shaking.  “I…  Do you remember a couple weeks ago, when you took Sam and Dean back to…” She paused, trying to remember the year.

“To 1978.”

“Yeah.” She said.  “I was alone in the motel for a while, which that—that was fine.” She looked at the angel.  He watched her closely.  “I…  I spoke to someone.”

“Who?”

“Lucifer.”

“What?” His eyes went wide as he turned his body to face her.  “You spoke with Lucifer?” He looked her body over, fingers hovering as he examined her.  “Are you all right?  What happened, Jaime, what did he…” He stopped when he lifted up the sleeve over her right arm.  She felt shameful as he looked at the burn, and she turned away.  “Did he do this?”

“Yeah, but…  It had healed by the time you came back, and I didn’t think—“

“Jaime, you need to tell me when something like this happens.” Castiel continued to stare at the burn.  He gently ran a finger over the raised, scarred skin and felt Jaime shiver under his touch.  “If you don’t tell me anything, how am I supposed to keep you safe?”

“I didn’t want you to know then.” She admitted.  “There’s so much going on, I didn’t want you to worry any more than you already do.”

“This isn’t something you keep a secret, Jaime.  This is the devil.” Castiel paused.  “You spoke to Lucifer.  What did he tell you?”

“He didn’t really tell me anything.  He just kind of…talked?” She didn’t want to tell him about the pain she felt when an angel had been killed, yet her left hand reached up and clutched the spot over her heart.  “I mean, he—he didn’t say anything…nice, but he just…  He just talked to me.” Her fingers tightened over her shirt as her face warmed up.  “And he—I don’t know why—but he—“

“Spilling secrets, Jaime?” A voice on the other side of the room made Jaime freeze.  She looked up and saw him—Lucifer—leaning against the motel door.  A smirk was on his face, and his blue eyes pierced through her.  “That’s not something friends do.”

Jaime jumped to her feet just as Castiel did.  He pushed her close behind him as he faced the devil.  A pointed silver blade slipped out from the sleeve of his trench coat and into his hand.  “Stay back.”

Lucifer looked at the weapon, clicked his tongue, then looked back at Castiel.  “Now that’s rude, Castiel.  I just came here to talk.” He took a step forward.  Castiel’s grip around the blade tightened, and Lucifer stopped.  “You know, a little father-son bonding.”

“You want to speak to God?” Castiel glanced over his shoulder at Jaime.  Her eyes were fearful as she stared at the devil.  “You can’t.” He looked back at Lucifer.  “We don’t know of a way to communicate with Him, or even if what we’re saying is getting through.  Every spell I’ve tried has failed.”

Jaime’s fingers tightened around Castiel’s coat as she looked down at the floor.  Guilt and dread welled up in the pit of her stomach.

Lucifer continued to smirk.  “Well, that’s why nothing’s working.  You’ve been using spells, that’s no good.” The devil looked at Jaime’s burn.  She moved to pull down the sleeve, hiding it from him.  “You’ve got to get physical with humans if you want anything to get through.” He moved forward again.  Castiel pushed Jaime behind him, shifting his footing.  Lucifer stopped, but his expression stayed the same.  “You know, Castiel, the first time little-miss-vessel and I met, Dad and I actually had a heart-to-heart.”

“What?” Castiel looked down at Jaime again, but she kept her face turned away from him.  “You…  No, that—that can’t…” He lowered his weapon.  “What did He say?”

“Would you believe it, He threatened me!” Lucifer threw his hands up in mock surprise.  “He told me to leave Jaime here alone, but where’s the fun in that.” He started moving towards them again.  Jaime inhaled sharply and tugged on Castiel’s coat.  The angel lifted his head and raised his blade at the devil again.  Lucifer sucked on his teeth as his expression darkened.  “Don’t be like that, Jaime.  You know I’d never hurt you without reason.”

Jaime glared at him.  “Yeah, right.  As if you needed a reason to do horrible things.”

“Burning you was an accident, I was acting in self-defense.  If you’d just cooperate with me, I wouldn’t have to lay a hand on you.” He moved to the side and leaned against the divider that separated the kitchen from the rest of the room.  “And do you know why?” She didn’t answer.  “Because I need you, Jaime.”

“Don’t listen to him.”

Lucifer gave an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes before glaring at the other angel.  “Castiel, this is really just an A-and-B conversation, so I think you should just leave for a while.” He waved his hand, and Castiel was suddenly gone.  Jaime jumped away from where he had been standing and the back of her legs bumped into the nightstand.  She looked around the room, searching, before she locked eyes with the devil.  Her breathing stopped, and Lucifer smiled.  “There.  Talking is much better without any unwanted commentary, don’t you think?”

Jaime didn’t waste a second.  She ran for the motel door, roughly turning and pulling at the handle.  It wouldn’t budge.  She slammed a fist against the wood, hoping someone outside would hear her.  Her chest tightened as she panicked. 

Lucifer chuckled behind her.  She turned around and saw him sitting on one of the beds—specifically, the one she had slept on.  He leaned back on his hands and pat the spot to his right.  Jaime pressed her back against the door, moving along it and eventually reaching the pale-purple wall.  Icy blue eyes watched her before he looked away and shook his head.  She took that moment to steal a glance at the pistol on top of the dresser she inched closer to.

“You’re afraid of me.”

“You think so?” Jaime said, quickly looking back at the devil.  “I wonder what gave you that idea—was it the me-being-absolutely-terrified thing, or the always-trying-to-get-away-from-you thing?”

He chuckled again.  “You’ve got a sense of humor.  I didn’t really get to see that the last time we talked.”

“You mean the last time you _assaulted_ me.” She moved closer to the dresser.  “What do you want?”

“Dad’s sense of humor was pretty funny, too.” He said, ignoring her.  “I mean, His was more along the lines of kicking me out of Heaven and letting the apocalypse happen, but hey,” He shrugged, “funny guy, right?” Jaime glared at him.  “Oh, come on.  Don’t look at me like that, Jaime—“

Jaime reached out and grabbed the pistol.  Lucifer stopped talking as she turned and pointed it at him, but the amused grin remained on his face.  “Stop talking and answer my question!  What do you want?”

“Your cooperation.”

“My…” Her hard expression faltered for a moment.  “M—My what?”

“I want you to say _‘yes.’_ ”

“Yes to what?”

“To becoming my vessel.”

Her mouth fell open some, surprised.  She lowered the pistol as she stared at Lucifer.  “What?  I don’t…what do you…” She shook her head and raised the gun again.  “Why the _hell_ do you think I’d even consider—“

“Because I can get you your life back.” He said.  She kept the gun pointed at him as he continued.  “Think about it, Jaime.  You can go back home, see your friends and family again—go back to everything you had before this mess, before God.” He watched as her gaze drifted away from him in thought.  “I know that’s what you want.  I can see it.  You don’t think you’re of any use here, so you’ve started to wonder, why even stick around anymore?  I can make it so everything that’s happened to you—everything since God—goes back to the way it was.  And all you have to do is let me in, just like you did for Him.” He pushed himself off the bed and walked towards her.  “Say yes to becoming my vessel, Jaime, just like you are for my Father.”

Jaime side-stepped away from him, putting more distance between them.  “No, I thought…  What about Sam?” Lucifer raised a brow.  “Isn’t he supposed to be your—your _true vessel,_ or something?”

“Or something, I suppose.  Sam’s a tough nut to crack.  And Nick here won’t be able to contain me for much longer.” He rolled his shoulders, groaning gently as they popped.  Jaime looked him up and down, taking in the burns that were all over his body and larger than the last time she had seen them.  “But you, Jaime,” He lifted a finger, regaining her attention, “you’re like the wild card in the Uno deck.  With you, I can do anything.”

“But Sam and Dean—“

“—Are supposed to be Michael’s and my own true vessels, I know.  I’ve heard the pitch before.” He rolled his eyes.  “But just think of the surprise if I show up in Dad’s vessel.  Rewriting another page that no one saw coming, that none of us angels thought would happen because we believed He was dead.” He leaned in, forcing Jaime to back up against the dresser.  “You’re strong, Jaime.  You must be if you can handle God.  I’m sure you can handle what I’m packing.”

She swallowed.  “What happens if I say yes?”

“Like I said, I can give you—“

“No, I mean…  What happens to everything—to Sam, Dean, and Cas?  The apocalypse…” Her hands tightened around the gun.  “What happens to God?”

Lucifer stared at her, eyes narrow.  “The apocalypse will continue, with me and my brother fighting each other across the planet.  With you as my vessel, however, I _will_ win.  Michael will be expecting Sam, not you.” He stepped closer, and the dresser edge began to dig painfully into her back.  “When it’s all over, I’ll let you go.  I’ll make sure nothing happens to you in the end; I’ll keep you safe for the rest of your life, instead of always being in danger like you are now.”

“What about God?”

He hesitated before answering.  “He chose you for a reason, Jaime.” A hand pressed against the surface of the dresser, caging her in.  “Out of all the humans on the planet, He chose you.  That’s not a coincidence.  You’re not some half-wit human He picked blindly; you are _His_ vessel.  If you say yes to me, God will be cast out of you.  He won’t find another vessel to hold Him—He’ll be left out in the open, bared to every creature who comes across.”

“God could—“

“God _will_ die.”

Jaime lowered her head as she chewed her lip.  _God will die?  No, that’s not…  That can’t be right.  He’s God, it’s not supposed to be this way.  He can’t…_ Her body trembled as she looked up at the devil.  “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can.”

She looked away again.  _He said he’ll protect me, keep me safe from everything…  I can go back to my life before this.  But…can I really?_ She lifted her head and locked eyes with Lucifer.  “No.”

The corners of his lips twitched.  “What?”

“I said no.” She pressed her gun up against his jaw.  He grunted at the cold steel and pursed his lips, taking a step back.  “I’m not letting you use me, and I’m not gonna let you stay around to use Sam, either.  If you wanna pick a fight with your brother so badly, then you can do it without us.”

Lucifer backed away from Jaime, moving far enough that she could straighten her arms to properly aim the pistol at him.  His eyes searched hers before he shook his head.  “Jaime, I like you, I really do.  You’re strong, you’ve seen things that would make most people go crazy, yet you keep going.  Even when face-to-face with the devil himself, you stand up and say _‘no.’_   It’s impressive, really.” He sighed.  “But it’s also stupid.” She flinched under his gaze.  “I figured you would say that, so I’ve thought of another way to appeal to you.”

It happened so fast.  Lucifer was suddenly standing in front of Jaime again.  He slapped the gun away from her and reached out, wrapping a hand around her throat.  In another instant, they were on the other side of the motel room, and he was shoving her back against the wall.  She gasped as he pushed her up the lavender-colored wall, hands latching onto his arm and feet kicking out.  Lucifer kept his eyes locked with hers as she let out a choked groan.

“Jaime,” He said her name slowly, and it made a shiver run through her body, “you know I didn’t want it to come to this, but what other choice do I have?  Either you say yes to me, or I’ll drag you down to Hell myself and make sure you’re tortured to the brink of death until you do.” She squirmed as her nails dug into his arm.  “I highly recommend the first option.”

“I—I…” She gasped, barely able to get a word out.  She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as best as she could.  “No.”

Lucifer sighed again, obviously annoyed with her resistance.  “You’re making this _really_ hard for me, you know that?” He tilted his head.  “I thought you were such a smart girl, too.”

Jaime’s eyes snapped open as a burning sensation grew around her throat.  She looked down at Lucifer.  The smile on his face was malicious.  She clawed at his arm as she grit her teeth.  His hand was burning her throat, scarring it like he had done to her arm.  Tears welled up in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.  “Please!  P—Please…stop!”

“You can stop it, Jaime.  You know what you have to do.” He said.  “Say yes.”

Jaime let out a short, choked sob, gasping desperately.  “Y—You can go…screw yourself.”

His eyes narrowed, and he tightened his grip on her neck.  She yelped and continued to struggle vainly.  “You know, I meant it when I said I liked you, Jaime.” He leaned in close so that his lips were beside her ear.  “Do you remember the last time we talked?  Do you remember the pain you felt when that angel died?  Or the pain I had to exercise on you because you were being such a bad girl?” Jaime shivered again as his cold breath brushed against the shell of her ear.  “That look on your face…  I can’t get it out of my head.  The way your mouth fell open in that sweet, silent scream, and how your body arched and writhed underneath me…  Just like now.” She groaned, turning away from him.  “Seeing you like that, so helpless…  I loved it.  The pious vessel, crying out in agony.  It’s what you deserve.”

His hand squeezed even tighter around her neck.  Jaime tried to call out to someone—to God, to Castiel, to anyone.  No one answered.  The burning on her throat was all she felt, and she twisted her body get him away from her.

A cold sensation ran up the side of her face.  Lucifer’s free hand cupped her cheek, holding her in place as he leaned in towards her.  His chilling breath wafted over her face before he pressed his lips hard against hers.  Jaime cried against his mouth as her body was wracked with the same feelings from his last kiss—the stabbing pain, the comforting warmth.

The kiss was forceful, just like before.  The hand on her throat squeezed even tighter.  She cried out again as the grip she had on his arms weakened.  Her eyes struggled to stay open as black spots filled her vision.  The devil chuckled and smiled against her lips, pressing himself tight against her body.

_This is it…  I’m going to die._ Jaime’s arms fell to her sides as her eyelids fluttered shut.  _I’m going to die._

 

“You’re Joshua.” Sam said.

“I’m Joshua.” The older man—the angel—answered.

“So, you talk to God?”

“Mostly, He talks to me.”

Sam looked at his brother, and Dean urged him to continue with a small nod.  “Well, we need to speak to Him.  It’s important.”

“Why?” Joshua asked.  “Why come all the way to the Garden, instead of speaking with Him on Earth?  He has a vessel, you know—the woman, Jaime.”

“No, we—we know about her.” Dean said.  “But God’s not talking to anyone, not even Jaime, so—“

“—Why is He talking to me?” Joshua finished.  “I think it’s because I can sympathize—gardener to gardener.  And between us,” He added, “I think He gets lonely.”

“Well, my heart’s breakin’ for Him.”

Sam frowned.  “Well, can you at least give Him a message for us?  Jaime can’t seem to talk to Him, either.”

Joshua chuckled and raised an amused brow at them.  “Was she the one who told you that?” Sam and Dean looked confused, but the angel didn’t elaborate.  “Actually, He has a message for you two.  _‘Back off.’_ ”

“What?”

“He knows already.  He hears enough of it from the vessel.”

“But—“

“He knows everything, Dean.” Joshua said.  “He knows what the angels are doing, and that the apocalypse has begun.  He just doesn’t think it’s His problem.”

Dean was stunned.  “Not His problem?”

“God saved you already.  He put you on that plane, He brought back Castiel.  He granted you salvation in Heaven,” Joshua turned to look at Sam, “even after everything you’ve done.  It’s more than He’s intervened in a long time.”

“So, He’s not going to do anything?” Sam asked.  Joshua didn’t answer.  “Why even—Why is He even on Earth if He’s not gonna—“

“Don’t worry, Sam.  He wouldn’t take a vessel without reason.  But, stopping the apocalypse, that’s not for Him to worry about.”

“But, He can stop it.  He can stop _all_ of it.”

“I suppose He can, but He won’t.  That’s not what He’s there to do.”

“So, He’s just gonna hitch a ride inside some poor, unlucky kid, then sit back and watch the world burn?”

“I know how important this was to you, Dean, but He’s not going to intervene in the matter any longer.  I’m sorry.”

Dean shook his head.  “Forget it.  He’s just another dead-beat dad with a bunch of excuses.  I’m used to that, I’ll muddle through.”

“Except, you don’t know if you can this time.  You can’t kill the devil, and you’re losing faith—in yourself, your brother, and now this.” Sam looked away as Joshua continued.  “God was your last hope.  I just…  I wish I could tell you something different.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

Joshua faced Sam.  “You think I would lie?”

“It’s just…  You’re not exactly the first angel we’ve met.”

“I’m rooting for you boys!  I’m rooting for that vessel, for humanity!” Joshua sighed.  “I wish I could do more to help you, I do, but…  I just trim the hedges.”

“So, what now?”

Joshua turned away from the Winchesters, starting down a narrow brick path in the Garden.  “You go home again.  You protect the vessel.  You continue to do what you do.” He stopped and glanced over his shoulder.  “But, I’m afraid this time won’t be like the last.  This time, God wants you to remember.”

The angel lifted a hand, and a bright light filled the Garden.  Sam and Dean closed their eyes, shielding themselves from the light as it enveloped them completely.

 

The afternoon sky above the motel was cloudy.  People who walked by or drove past the black Impala in the parking lot were unaware of the two dead bodies that lay inside.  A delicate gust of wind blew through the lot, and Sam suddenly shot upright.  He gasped deeply before letting out a few rough coughs.  Not a moment later, Dean did the same, inhaling sharply and coughing as well.  Sam pressed a hand over the front of his bloody flannel.

“You all right?” He asked.

Dean looked around the inside of the car, confused.  “Define _‘all right.’_ ”

“Good, you’re back.” A voice said.  Sam and Dean turned to see Castiel standing outside the passenger door.  He peered into the car, examining the once-dead brothers.

“Cas.” Sam said, taking the time to glance around the car himself.  “Why are we in the car?  Did you move us?”

The angel nodded.  “Yes.  Jaime asked me to help her.  She couldn’t stand to look at you two, told me how she didn’t want to see anyone else she knew dead.”

“Where is she?”

Castiel looked over his shoulder to the motel room.  “She’s in there, with Lucifer.”

“Lucifer?” The brothers said together.  Dean shifted in the back seat.  “Why aren’t you in there, trying to stop him?”

“He removed me from the room, I can’t get back inside.” Castiel noticed the looks they both gave him.  “Lucifer is strong, there are things he can do that I cannot.  I think he warded me out; I can feel potent repelling energy around the room.  If I try to break through, it’s likely I’ll be severely damaged.”

“We need to get in there.” Sam said.

“I’ve been _trying._ ” Castiel’s voice deepened as he grew more concerned.  His eyes widened suddenly as he faced the motel.  “Something’s happening.”

“What’s going on?”

“Her essence, it’s fading.” He spoke quickly and turned back to the brothers.  “Any ideas?”

“What about that—that angel-banished spell?” Sam suggested.  “Have you tried that yet?”

Castiel went silent, a fair indicator that, no, he hadn’t.  “No, but that’s a smart idea.  Get out of the car, both of you.” They threw the blankets off and stepped out of the Impala.  Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand and made a clean slice across the palm with his angel blade.  Dean hissed out a curse.  “You have to hurry.”

“You’re not staying?”

“If I’m caught within the sigil’s range, I’ll be removed, as well.  I’ll be waiting from a safe distance until after you’ve activated it.” He looked at the motel again.  “At this point, he’s going to kill her.” He faced the brothers one last time and said, “Please, hurry,” before he vanished.

 

Jaime felt absolutely weightless, like she was floating.  She knew she wasn’t.  She was dying.  Lucifer’s searing hand around her throat and his cold lips moving over hers told her so.  Still, she felt ethereal, strangely at peace.  She didn’t know that’s what dying felt like.  Her body grew weaker with each passing second, and she hoped she would go to Heaven.

She would never know.

The motel door suddenly slammed open behind Lucifer.  Someone shouted something.  The sound was muffled in her ears.  The devil’s lips left hers as he looked over his shoulder.  His hand remained tight around her neck.  She cracked open an eye and saw someone standing in the doorway.  Lucifer said something, but the stranger didn’t respond.  They smacked their hand against something dark-red that had been smeared on the outside of the door.

An intense light filled the room.  The pressure on her neck suddenly disappeared, and Jaime collapsed to the floor.

She landed painfully on her side and immediately gasped for air.  A series of dry, rough coughs shook her body, and she weakly tried to push herself off the floor.  A shadow darkened her blurred vision.  She lifted her head to see someone standing over her, and they crouched down and helped her sit up.  She leaned back against the wall, still coughing.

Her vision began to clear, and she tilted her head to see who had come to her aid.  _Cas._ Behind the angel, searching through the motel room, were two more familiar figures.  _Sam and Dean…  They’re alive._ She opened her mouth to speak, but another harsh cough made her fall forward.  She kept her head between her knees.

“Jaime, are you all right?” Castiel’s voice came in clear as her hearing returned.  He looked over her body and tensed when his eyes stopped at her neck.  Patterns of Lucifer’s fingers were etched into her skin.  He lifted a hand and carefully ran his fingers over the fresh burn.  She flinched away from his touch with a sharp inhale, pressing herself back against the wall.  “Jaime…  I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have hesitated, I should have protected you.  I can’t believe he just—“

“Cas, please…don’t.” Her voice was hoarse.  “He…  He’s gone now, that’s…  That’s what matters.” She looked up at him.  “Can you help me to the bed?  I don’t think I can move on my own.”

Castiel nodded and lifted one of her arms around his neck.  He put a hand around her waist as he pulled her to stand.  Her legs trembled as he walked her to one of the two beds.

“What happened?” Sam asked.  He and Dean joined them after finding nothing in the room—nothing left behind by Lucifer, or even Walt or Roy.

“I…  Lucifer, he…” She didn’t look at Sam.  “He wanted me to be his vessel.”

“What?”

“He said that—that because I’m God’s vessel, I’d be strong enough to defeat Michael.” She caught her quivering lip between her teeth and tried to keep herself from crying.  “I—I thought…  I was going to say yes.” She admitted, pressing her face into her hands.  She shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks.  “He told me he’d keep me safe!  That I could go back to my old life, back to the way everything was before, but…” She sniffed, lowering her hands.  “The apocalypse will happen, with or without me.  Michael and Lucifer will still fight, and the world will still be destroyed, and…  And I can’t do a _damn thing_ to stop it!”

“That’s not true, Jaime.” Castiel said.  He turned to Sam and Dean.  “You met with Joshua.  What did he tell you?  What did God have to say?”

They didn’t answer right away.  Sam looked at Dean, who shook his head and moved towards the motel fridge.  He opened it, pulled out a beer, and twisted off the bottle top with his hand.  “He didn’t say anything.  He told us to _‘back off.’_ ” He said, taking a large sip.  “God knows what’s happening, He just doesn’t give a damn.”

Castiel’s hopeful expression fell.  “No…  No, that’s not true.  That can’t be true.  God wouldn’t just—“

“He did, Cas.” Sam said, moving to sit across from Jaime on the other bed.

Jaime didn’t look at them.  She couldn’t.  _He won’t help us._ She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.  _This isn’t right.  Cas has been searching nonstop for answers, and this is what he gets?  And what about Sam and Dean?  This is just—They can’t deal with this on their own.  This isn’t fair._

Castiel stood and moved away, leaning up against the divider.  Jaime looked up and saw Sam watching her.  He shook his head then stood up and began to pack away their gear.  Dean quickly finished his drink and grabbed a duffel bag from off the floor, helping his brother.

“Maybe…” Castiel hesitated before he continued.  “Maybe Joshua was lying.”

“I don’t think he was, Cas.” Sam sighed.  “I’m sorry.”

Jaime watched the angel’s shoulders slump before he suddenly turned around and faced her.  His steps were heavy and firm as he walked up to her and gripped her arms tight.  He pulled her off the bed and pushed her up against the nearest wall.  She let out a cry at the pressure.  Sam and Dean yelled at Castiel, but he didn’t listen.  He stared furiously into Jaime’s eyes as she struggled weakly in his hold.

“You son of a bitch.” He said through his teeth.  He leaned in close, pushing her further up the wall.  “It’s not fair.  I believed in—“

He cut himself off when he realized he wasn’t going to get an answer.  He released Jaime, and she slid down the wall onto the floor.  When she looked up at Castiel, he stared down at her, eyes still livid but also remorseful.  He turned away from her and faced Dean, pulling something out of his coat pocket.

“I don’t need this anymore.” He tossed it to Dean.  The hunter let it hang from his hands.  Jaime could see it was a strangle amulet, hanging on by a thin, leather chord.  “It’s worthless.”

“Cas, wait.” Sam said, but the angel disappeared as a soft wind blew through the room.  Sam shook his head and tossed his duffel bag onto one of the beds.  “We’ll find another way.  We can still stop this, Dean.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll find it.  You and me, Cas, Jaime—we’ll find it.”

Dean looked over at Jaime.  She was still on the floor, her head hung low and her hair hiding her face.  “Yeah, right.”

He zipped up his duffel bag wordlessly.  Sam watched his brother walked past him but stop at the motel door.  He let the necklace hang for a moment before he dropped it into the trash can next to him.  It landed with a small **_THUNK._**   Dean opened the door and left.

Sam grabbed his bag and moved to the door but stopped in front of Jaime.  She didn’t look at him.  “We’ll be in the car.” He said before walking out.

Jaime was left alone.  It was quiet, except for the Impala doors opening and closing a few times.  Her fingers curled against the carpeted floor.  She lifted her head and stood up, eyes burning fiercely.  She walked over to the trash can by the door.  Jaime stared down at the necklace at the bottom for a moment then bent down and reached inside to grab it.  She held the amulet up to her face before she shoved it into her pocket.  She shut the door behind her and climbed into the backseat of the Impala, crossing her arms and looking out the window as Dean reversed out of the parking lot.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aight so i lied...this one is actually my shortest one so far. 26 pages and about 8300 words......so small.......
> 
> it's okay tho cause i wrote for an episode i really enjoyed and i got to write jaime geTTING ALL MESSED UP AGAIN HELL YEAH!!!!! i love making her suffer, especially when lucifer's involved 8)
> 
> i hope everything makes sense here.... """original""" chapters (or chapters that don't really follow the canon) are a bit difficult for me to write, but i hope u like it. most of it tends to be info dumps, but i try to include enough action to make it not once big piece of exposition.
> 
> anyway. wasn't it nice to see some of what sweet jaime/cas interaction? only for it to be torN AWAY BY LUCIFER? and then we saw it again? ONLY FOR IT TO BE RUINED BY CAS HIMSELF???? yeah, s'nice.  
> next chapter may take a while to come out, seeing as how it's another episode that i don't really care about!!!
> 
> title is Say Yes by Elliot Smith~!!


	12. Everyday People

**BLUE EARTH, MINNESOTA — MARCH 4, 2010**

There had been so many, too many.  She glanced out the rear window of the Impala, breathing heavy as the horde of demons chased after them.  Dean’s hands were tight around the wheel as the odometer passed ninety miles.  The tires screeched and echoed through the early morning darkness.

“Drive faster, Dean!” Jaime urged.

“I can’t!” He shouted.  Sam groaned in pain from the passenger’s seat, clutching his freshly wounded shoulder.  Dean gave his brother a quick look before he focused on the road.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m amazing.” Sam said through his teeth.

“Have you guys ever seen that many?” Jaime asked.  She looked out the window again.  The demons were still chasing them.  There must have been over twenty.  Jaime and the brothers had been ambushed while investigating some end-time omens and just barely managed to escape.

“No, no way.” Sam said.  “Not in one place.” As they flew by streetlights, Jaime could see sweat running down his forehead.

Dean veered the car to the right and turned down another street.  He suddenly tensed and slammed on the brakes.  “What the hell?” A turned over semi-truck blocked the road.  It was on fire, and there was no way for the Impala to get around it.  “Damn it!” Dean put the car in reverse and looked past Jaime at the road behind them.

Suddenly, two pairs of arms broke through the driver and passenger side windows.  Jaime screamed as Sam and Dean were pulled out of the Impala.  _Demons!_ She reached for her pistol, but it must have fallen on the floor.  Before she had a chance to find it, another pair of arms broke through the back window closest to her.  She screamed again as she shielded herself from the glass.

A male demon reached inside the car.  Jaime crawled back to the other side and kicked at him.  Her foot connected a few times, with him or other parts of the Impala, but he managed to get a grip on her ankle.  As he tried to pull her out of the car, she grabbed at the leather seat.  She tried to fight, but he was stronger than her.  The leather tore under her hands as the demon pulled her legs out of the car.  Jaime screamed again as his hands wrapped around her torso.

The demon suddenly let out an agonizing screech.  He let go of Jaime, stumbling away from the car, and she pressed herself against the door with the window still intact.  She looked out to see a large, modified pick-up truck had driven up to the Impala.  A strong stream of water was coming from the large tank in the bed of the truck.  The water hit the demons that attacked the Impala, and each one screamed as their bodies started to smoke.  Jaime could see Sam and Dean outside the car, standing to their feet.

Two men exited the truck, and one held a megaphone to his mouth.  He shouted something foreign.  Jaime’s eyes narrowed as she recognized it.  _Enochian?_ The man continued, and the demons’ bodies shook violently before black smoke poured from their mouths.  The smoke quickly wafted away and vanished in the distance, and every once-possessed person collapsed to the asphalt.

No one said anything after that.  Sam and Dean stared cautiously at the men.  Jaime saw a much younger man—barely her age—watching her.  Dean was the first to speak.  “Well, that’s something you don’t see every day.”

Sam nodded before he turned around and walked back to the Impala.  He saw Jaime in the backseat and peered in through the broken passenger window.  “Jaime?” His voice got her attention, and she quickly faced him.  “You okay?” She looked away, then back at him and nodded.  “Good.”

“You all right?” A voice called out.  Jaime looked past Sam to see the man who had the megaphone walking towards them.  He carried a shotgun but kept it pointed away from them.

Dean looked at the bodies before he faced the man.  “Peachy.”

“Be careful.  It’s dangerous around here.” The man said.  He turned around and headed towards the truck.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—wait, wait!” Dean took a few steps after the man.

“No need to thank us.”

“No, hold up a sec!  Who are you?”

The man looked back at Dean.  “We’re the Sacrament Lutheran Militia.”

“I’m sorry—the _what?_ ”

“I hate to tell you this, but those were demons.” The man said.  Sam moved away from the Impala as Jaime got out, and they followed Dean as he approached the truck.  “And this is the apocalypse.”

The flames from the semi-truck illuminated everything and everyone in a bright-yellow glow.  Sam and Dean looked at each other for a moment before they faced the man again.  “Uh, yeah.  We know.”

“What?”

“We know…what’s going on.” Sam said.  The man looked at his companions, confused and surprised.  “So, what are you guys, hunters?”

“What?  Hunters?”

“You know, demons.” Dean explained poorly.  “Hunters.”

“In that case, yes.”

“Who are you?” Jaime asked.  The younger one raised a brow at her.  “I mean…  What are your names?”

“I’m Rob.” The man who had approached them held out his hand.  Sam shook it.  Rob pointed back to the man on the other side of the truck, “That’s Paul,” then to the younger one holding the water hose, “and that’s Dylan.”

“I’m Sam.  This is my brother, Dean,” Dean gave a two-finger salute when he was introduced, and Sam nodded his head towards Jaime, “and that’s Jaime.” She nodded at Rob, and he returned it.

Dean then gestured for them to follow him.  He led the three men to the trunk of the Impala and opened it.  He then propped open the false bottom, revealing the arsenal of weapons hidden underneath.  Dylan and Paul stared down in awe.  Sam put his hands on his hips, smirking.  “Looks like we’re in the same line of business.”

“And among colleagues.” Dean motioned to Rob’s weapon when the man raised a brow.  “That’s a police-issued shotgun, and that truck is, uh,” He glanced at the modified vehicle, “ _inspired._   Where’d you guys pick up all this crap?”

“You know,” Paul shrugged, his tone suggesting he’d rather avoid the question, “you pick things up along the way.”

Rob chuckled and Dylan smirked a little.  “Guys, c’mon.  This whole corner of the state is nuts with demon omens.” Dean said.  “We just wanna help, that’s all.”

“We’re on the same team here.” Sam added.

Paul and Dylan shared a look before Rob nodded.  “Follow us.” He said, turning around and walking back to the truck.

Dean closed the trunk, and he, Sam, and Jaime got back in the Impala.  They waited for Rob to move his truck.  Jaime couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in her stomach.  She leaned forward against the front seat.  “Dean.” He hummed in response.  “Something…  Isn’t it kind of weird?”

“What’s weird?”

“That thing Rob said to get rid of the demons.  It wasn’t Latin, but…  I think it was Enochian.”

“What are you, an expert in Enochian now?”

Jaime leaned away, surprised at Dean’s tone.  “What?  No, I—I just…  You don’t just _pick up_ Enochian.”

Dean didn’t any anything for a moment as he followed Rob’s truck up the road.  “We’re just gonna check it out, all right?”

She sighed, nodding and sitting back in her seat.

 

The early morning fog had started to roll in by the time they reached the town.  Rob parked his truck outside of a church, and Dean did the same.  Jaime pressed her forehead against the front seat, suddenly feeling incredibly sick.  She shivered as she broke out in a cold sweat.  Her hands clenched the leather upholstery, and she took a few deep breaths before exiting the Impala.

The fog had made it hard to see very far, but Jaime noticed the high fences that must have been wrapped around the entire perimeter of the town.  Any fence that wasn’t over six feet tall had barbed wire on top.  People with surprisingly heavy weapons guarded what entrances and exits Jaime could see.

Dean grabbed some jackets from the trunk and handed one to Sam.  Jaime watched the men they had followed head to the church.  A woman at the entrance spoke to Dylan, who sighed as he turned off his music player.  Jaime looked down at the large, spray-painted, five-point sigil on the cement path that lead to the church doors.  A devil’s trap, she had learned.  She bit her lip as she entered the church.

Jaime stood next to Sam and Dean near the back of the building.  She looked towards the church pulpit and realized that a wedding was taking place.  _Wait…  Three couples…  Three weddings?_ Her hands were hidden under her jacket, and she rubbed at her stomach to soothe the queasy feeling that had yet to go away.

Sam scoffed at the couples.  “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Paul said from beside him.  “We’ve had eight this week so far.”

The pastor smiled at the couples, then did the same to the rest of the crowd.  Jaime frowned, hand tightening on her shirt.

 

The three-weddings-rolled-into-one ceremony ended quickly, much faster than just one normal wedding, and each one of the newlywed couples were grinning optimistically as they left the church.  People applauded them and tossed white- and red-colored petals in the air.  Some gave them congratulatory hugs.  Jaime had moved to stand outside with Sam and Dean when everyone had been dismissed.  They watched the display of good-natured tradition.  It was a little confusing to witness, especially when times had become so chaotic.

“So, Rob tells me you three hunt demons.”

A man—the pastor who had wed the couples—stood beside them, scratching at the light layer of scruff on his face.  He wore a brown hunting jacket over his clerical black robes.  “Yes, sir.” Sam nodded.

“You missed a few.” The pastor said.

Sam chuckled.  “Tell us about it.  Any idea why they’re here?”

The pastor shook his head.  “They sure seem to like us, though.” He glanced at them before turning back to the church.  “Come with me.”

They followed him.  Dean eyed the gun he had holstered around his leg.  Sam stayed quiet, while Jaime still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.

“So, you’re a preacher?” Dean asked as they were led down a staircase near the back of the building.

“Not what you expected, huh?”

“Well, dude, you’re packing.” Dean gestured to the pastor’s leg.

The man shook his head.  “Strange times.” They continued down to the basement of the church and were led down a hallway before coming to a set of double doors.  The pastor pushed them open.

There were at least a dozen people inside the room, all standing over or sitting at tables, making different kinds of ammunition.  Someone was at a table that had full water gallons on it, praying quietly and blessing the water.  One table had a family working on pressing salt into shotgun casings.  Dean did a double-take.  “Is that a twelve year-old packin’ salt rounds?”

“Everybody pitches in.” The pastor said.

“So, the whole church?”

“The whole town.”

“A whole town full of hunters?” Dean took a moment to look around the room again.  “I don’t know whether to run screamin’ or buy a condo.”

“The demons were killing us.  We had to do something.”

“Why didn’t you call the national guard?” Sam asked.

The pastor shrugged.  “We were told not to.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed.  “By who?” The three men looked at her curiously, but she wasn’t fazed.  Sam and Dean faced the pastor, who hesitated.

“Come on, _padre._ ” Dean urged.  “You’re as locked and loaded as we’ve ever seen.”

“That exorcism was Enochian.” Jaime said, moving past Sam and Dean and getting closer to the pastor.  He pursed his lips, glancing away from her.  “Someone is telling you people something.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” The pastor said, “I can’t discuss it.”

“Dad, it’s okay.” Someone spoke up.  Sam, Dean, and Jaime turned around to see a young woman—probably no older than twenty—standing behind them.  She looked them, her wavy brown hair bouncing on her shoulders with the movement.  She wore a blue, polka dot shirt under a beige blazer.  The pastor objected, calling the girl _‘Leah,’_ but she interrupted him.  “It’s Sam and Dean Winchester.  They’re safe.  I know all about them.” She then looked a Jaime.  “And Jaime.  I know about you, too.”

As soon as Leah spoke to her, Jaime’s stomach flipped.  Her eyes went wide as she clenched her teeth, gripping her shirt over her stomach as she felt immensely worse than when she had first entered the town.  She lost her footing, only for a second, and let out a slow breath of air to keep herself from throwing up.  _What the hell?_ Jaime watched Leah cautiously.

“You do?” Dean asked, not noticing Jaime’s suddenly uneasy behavior.

“Sure.  From the angels.”

“The angels.” Dean nodded slowly.  “Awesome.”

“Don’t worry, they can’t see you here.  The…marks on your ribs, right?” Leah put a hand against her torso as she explained.

“So, you know all about us because _angels_ told you?”

“Yes.” Leah smiled.  She looked between Sam and Dean, then at Jaime again.  “Among other things.”

Jaime took a deep breath.  “Like that Enochian exorcism.”

“They show me where the demons are gonna be before it happens, how to fight back.”

“She’s never been wrong.” The pastor said, moving past the three and standing next to his daughter.  “Not once.  She’s very special.” He put a hand on top of her head, stroking her hair.  She rolled her eyes, embarrassed.

“Let me guess.  Before you see something, you get a bad migraine?  You see flashing lights?” Dean asked.

Leah didn’t say anything for a moment.  “How’d you know?”

“’Cause you’re not the first prophet we’ve met.  But you are the cutest.” Dean grinned.  Leah lowered her head, smiling and blushing.  The pastor gave Dean a look, and the hunter held his hands up defensively.  “I mean that with total respect, of course.”

“Is there a motel in town?” Jaime asked, her eyes still on Leah.  She could feel Sam and Dean looking at her curiously.  “We’re probably gonna be sticking around for a while, right?  We’ll need a place to stay.”

The pastor nodded.  “Yeah, there’s one down the road.”

“Thank you…”

“Gideon.”

“Thank you, Gideon.” Jaime repeated.  She stood straight and headed for the double doors.  Sam and Dean moved after her, still confused.

 

_“You have reached the voicemail box of— **BEEP!** ”_

_“I don’t understand.  Why—Why do you want me to say my name?”_

Jaime stared at the floor of the bar as she listened to Castiel’s voicemail.  She could hear random buttons being pressed before there was another **_BEEP!_**   “Hey, Cas, it’s Jaime.  We’re in Blue Earth, Minnesota, and we could use your help.” She bit her lip.  “I guess… _I_ could use your help.” She leaned against the bar counter.  “Anyway, I hope you get this and…  You know, I hope…you’re not too upset with me.  Bye.” She sighed as she hung up and put her phone away.

“Did he answer?” Sam asked as he walked up to the bar.

“No.  I left a message.” Jaime started to move away from the bar.  “I’m gonna go sit down.”

“Hey.” Sam put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.  “Are you okay?” She raised a brow.  “It’s just…  What Cas did, after Lucifer…” He trailed off when felt her tense underneath his hand.  “You just don’t look so good.”

“I haven’t been feeling well.” She said quickly, wanting to get away.  “Everything’s just been,” She shrugged, “it’s just been a lot, I guess.”

Sam nodded and let her go.  Jaime quickly weaved through the people in the bar until she made it to the bathroom.  She pushed open the door and ran inside.  She stood over the closest sink, gripping the sides tight and panting.  Jaime groaned as she squeezed her eyes shut.

She glanced at the long, horizontal mirror on the wall and frowned at what stared back.  Her eyes had deep bags, that were bruised purple from a lack of proper sleep.  The cold sweat she had since Dean drove into town was still there.  Her skin looked paler than normal, and her hair disgusted her—it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in days.  _How long have I been walking around like this without anyone saying anything?_

Jaime’s gaze fell to her neck.  The burn there had completely healed a few hours after they left the motel in Texas.  The memory of what happened hadn’t gone away, however, and it sickened her whenever she looked at the hand-shaped scar.  Jaime lifted a hand up to her neck but stopped and immediately went back to holding the sink.  She didn’t want to touch it, she didn’t want to think about it, knowing it would only make her feel worse.

_What’s wrong with this place?  I haven’t feel this horrible since…_ She sighed, tapping a finger against the edge of the sink.  _Leah.  Something about her doesn’t sit right with me.  All she did was introduce herself—look at me—and I felt like throwing up._ “What’s going on with me?”

The sound of church bells tolling outside brought her out of her thoughts.  Jaime quickly splashed some water over her face before she exited the restroom.  Everyone that had been sitting and conversing in the bar had gotten up and started to move outside.  Jaime saw Sam and Dean closer to the back of the crowd.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” She asked when she caught up to them.

“Leah had another vision.” Sam explained.

“Really?”

Sam nodded.  Dean took a drink from his beer before he set it on a table as they passed by.  “C’mon.  Let’s go to church.”

 

“Three miles off Talmadge Road.” Pastor Gideon said.  Leah, who stood next to him, tugged on his jacket and whispered something to him.  “Five miles.” He corrected.  “There are demons gathered.  I…don’t know how many, but a lot.” He turned to his daughter, muttering a quick thank you.  She moved off the pulpit and sat down in the front pew.  Gideon faced everyone again.  “So, who’s gonna join me?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Rob said, raising his hand.

A few others lifted their hands, as well.  Paul joked about how he would come because someone had to cover Rob’s ass.  Dean and Sam looked down at Jaime, and she nodded when she realized they were asking for her approval.  Dean raised his hand.  “We’re in, _padre._ ”

“Thank you.” He said.  “I’d like to offer a prayer.” He folded his hands and lowered his head.  Everyone followed his example, even Sam and Dean.  Jaime crossed her arms in front of her chest, glancing at Paul a few pews ahead as he took a drink from a small flask.  “Our Father in Heaven…”

“Yeah, not so much.” Dean whispered.  Jaime could feel both brothers’ eyes on her.  She shifted where she stood, frowning.

 

Thirty minutes later, Jaime crept through the woods outside of Blue Earth towards a large, run-down house.  She was in the middle of a small group, next to Dylan.  He was the closest to her age, so she found he was easy to talk to.  She learned that he was Rob’s son, which explained why he had been so eager to go hunting with his father.  The group stopped a few meters from the house.  Gideon silently instructed everyone to split up and surround the place.  He then moved towards the front of the house, while Sam headed left.  Dean started to head around the back, and Jaime—who was followed by Dylan—went after him.

They passed a small shed, finding nothing inside when they checked it out.  They moved up the stairs to the back porch.  Jaime crouched below one of the windows and peeked inside.  A shadow moved passed, and she quickly ducked down.

Dean suddenly grunted beside her, and she turned to see a demon pinning him against the wood.  She moved to help him but something inside compelled her to stop.  Her eyes widened as she pressed a hand over her chest.  Dylan raised his shotgun and fired at the demon’s back.  The demon fell, and Dylan quickly uttered an Enochian phrase before black smoke rose from the demon’s mouth.  The once-possessed man fell limp.  Dean stood up and kicked open the back door.

Fighting and guns going off were heard further inside the house.  A demon turned the corner and jumped back when he saw the three of them.  Dean fired his shotgun, and the demon was pushed back against a wall as Dylan spoke Enochian once again.  They moved quickly.  Dean shot at the demons that tried to attack, while Dylan continued to exorcise them.  Jaime didn’t understand why she felt the need to not fight, or what was holding her back from helping them.

They made it to the entrance room of the house.  Gideon, Sam, and the others fought off the demons as they came at them from all sides.  Another one moved down the staircase, and Dean aimed his gun and fired.  It clicked, out of bullets, and he quickly thrust it into the demon’s face.  Jaime shouted at him as three more entered through the front door.  Dylan jumped in front of her, shooting them down before exorcising them.

The skirmish continued for a few more minutes.  Jaime turned around just as Sam had thrown his knife into a demon’s back.  He fell, and Dean quickly pulled it out and stabbed another one in his heart.  An orange glow flickered and died out beneath his skin before he lied still.  Dean helped Sam onto his feet, and Jaime and Dylan met up with Gideon and the others by the front door.  Everyone was a little winded from the fight.  Gideon looked around to make sure no one was injured before he nodded and they followed him outside.

“I guess that’s what it’s like.” Sam whispered.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Having backup.”

Jaime chuckled, and Dean gave a little nod, agreeing.  They stopped at the Impala.  Dean opened the trunk and they tossed their weapons inside.

“Wait!” A voice called out, and Jaime turned to see Dylan running over to them.

“Yo.” Dean answered.

“Hey, so, uhm, is…” He hesitated, looking behind him at the pick-up truck that everyone else climbed into.  “Is that—Is that cool if I get a ride back with you guys?”

Dean and Sam looked at each other.  Dean glanced at the truck and held up a hand.  Pastor Gideon, in the driver’s seat, did the same, nodding before driving off.

“Hey, you saved my ass twice already.  One more time, and you can drive.” Dean said.  He rounded the car, opening the back door and reaching inside the cooler he had brought.  “You want a beer?” Dylan nodded, and Dean waited until the truck was out of sight to toss him a silver can.  “You earned it.  Don’t tell your mom.”

“Oh, believe me—I will _not._ ” Dylan grinned.  Cans opened and each one of the men took a drink.

“Jaime.” Dean asked.  She looked at him then down at his outstretched hand.  He was holding another beer.  “You want one?”

“No, I’m fine.  I don’t think I should drink.”

“It’s the end times.” Dylan said on the other side of the car.  “Let loose a little.”

“Trust me, I’d love to let loose.” She admitted.  “I just don’t think it’d be good for _me_ to drink.” Jaime noticed the confused looks Sam and Dean gave her, and she tapped the center of her chest.  They both made small noises of realization, and Dean put the beer back in the cooler.  “But you guys enjoy yourselves.”

“Don’t worry, we will.” Dean said.

Jaime moved past the brothers and walked to the other side of the car, standing next to Dylan.  She looked at the sky and noticed it was still cloudy.  She sighed.  _I could really use a shower right now…_

“Hey, Jaime?” Dylan’s voice broke her thoughts, and she tilted her head to look at him.  “In the house, I noticed…  Well, you didn’t really fight.  Everyone else fired their gun, or killed a demon, but you…you didn’t really do anything.” He shifted a little as he tried to explain without offending her.  “I just wanted…to know why, I guess.  Is it, like, against your beliefs, or something?”

“No.” She shook her head then shrugged.  “Just…  Sometimes some… _part_ of me doesn’t want to fight, and I think it’s wise for me to listen to it.”

Dylan nodded.  “I get that.  When you first start doing this kind of thing, part of you says it’s not right, killing people like this.  But they aren’t people, they’re demons.”

“I know.”

“Don’t worry.  It gets easier.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Jaime rolled her head to the side, facing away from Dylan.  She heard him sigh and take another drink.  It was quiet after that.  Sam and Dean stared off somewhere on the other side of the car.  Jaime figured this was about as peaceful of a moment as they would get in a long time.

Dylan suddenly screamed, and Jaime jumped at the sound.  She turned around just as he hit the floor and was suddenly pulled underneath the Impala.  Dean was at her side in an instant.  They grabbed his arms, trying to pull him out.  A woman’s voice came from the other side of the car, followed by the sound of a knife sinking into flesh before Dylan’s body fell limp.

Jaime and Dean hauled his body out.  He was still, eyes open but blank, and there was a large, bloody bite mark on his neck.  Sam rushed over to them, holding the demon-killing knife tight.  Jaime moved back as Dean held the boy in his lap, shaking his head.  “Damn it, no!”

 

The entire town had shown up for Dylan’s funeral.  Jaime didn’t want to go inside the church.  When they carried the young man’s coffin inside, she peeked in to see that most of the pews were still empty.  She watched Dean talk to Dylan’s parents—Rob, and a woman with mascara running down her face.

“Ma’am, we’re just…” He started.  “We’re very sorry.”

“You know,” The woman said, her mouth turned down, “this is your fault.”

“Jane.” Rob said in a hushed voice.  The woman kept her eyes on Dean, even as her husband ushered her into the church.

Jaime looked up.  The sun had finally started to shine through the dark clouds.  _How ill-fitting._ Someone nudged her, and she turned to see Sam heading inside.  She hesitated.  “I don’t want to go in there.”

“We’re gonna sit in the back.” He said, trying to reason with her.

She shook her head, but Dean stepped in front of her.  “We’re going in there to pay our respects.” He suddenly grabbed her forearm.  “Come on.”

She struggled, barely, before letting him pull her inside.  The three of them slid into the pew beside the entrance and faced the front as Gideon began to speak.

“I wish I knew what to say, but I don’t.” The pastor looked at Rob and Jane, sitting in the one of the front pews.  “I’m so sorry, Jane, Rob.” Dylan’s mother let out a quiet sob.  “There are no words.  Dylan…” He paused, sighing.  “I don’t know why this happened.  I don’t know why _any_ of this is happening.  I got no easy answers.” Jaime glanced at Sam and Dean.  They did nothing.  “But what I do know is—Leah?”

Gideon stopped.  Jaime arched her neck and was just barely able to catch Leah falling from her seat to the church floor.  The crowd gasped as she started to seize.  Her father rushed to her side, holding her hand as he helped her sit up.  Jaime wasn’t able to hear what they were saying from where she was seated.  After a few seconds, Leah’s voice rang out loud and clear.

“Dad, it’s Dylan.”

“Just rest a minute, honey.”

“No, listen.” She stared blankly as she continued.  “Dylan’s coming back.”

The people in the church murmured and whispered to each other.  Gideon slowly helped Leah back onto her feet.  She gently pushed him away when she managed to stand at the pulpit, and she took a deep breath before addressing the crowd.

“Jane, Rob,” She started, “it’s going to be okay.  You’ll see Dylan again.  When the final day comes, Judgement Day, he’ll be resurrected, and you’ll be together again.  We’ll all be together again.  With all our loved ones.” Leah looked out at everyone, smiling.  “We’ve been chosen.  The angels have chosen us.  And we will be given paradise on Earth.  All we have to do is follow the angels’ commandments.”

 

“No drinking, no gambling, no premarital sex?” Sam counted off on his fingers as he, Dean, and Jaime exited the church.  “Dean, they basically just outlawed ninety percent of your personality.”

Jaime wrapped her arms around her torso and rubbed her stomach.  When Leah had started talking about the townspeople being chosen and what rules they had to follow, the awfully nauseating feeling had returned ten-fold.  A shiver ran down her spine, and she lifted a hand to wipe at the thin layer of sweat that had covered her forehead.  She had managed to deduce that Leah was the cause of her discomfort, but she didn’t know exactly _why_ that was or _what_ it meant.

“Yeah, well, whatever.” Dean said with a shrug.  “When in Rome.”

“So, uh…  You’re cool with it?”

“I’m not cool.  I’m not _not_ cool, I’m just…” He sighed.  “Look, man, I’m not a prophet.  We’re not locals.  It’s not my call.” Dean glanced back to the church.  “I’ll catch up with you.”

He quickly moved past Sam, who scoffed at his strange behavior.  Jaime watched Dean disappeared inside the church before her stomach lurched again.  “Sam…” She groaned.

He turned to her, about to answer, before his eyes widened and a look of concern swept over his face.  “Whoa, hey, you okay?” Jaime shook her head.  Sam moved to her side, holding onto her shoulders.  “What do you need me to do?”

“Can you drive me to the motel, please?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Sam said.  He guided her to the Impala, opened the door and helped her inside. He shut the door and climbed into the driver’s side, started the car, and drove off.  “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“No, it’s fine.” She said breathlessly.  Jaime didn’t know why she was suddenly feeling so much worse, so much _weaker,_ than before.  “I’ll just wait for you, go ahead and do that investigating stuff.” She lifted a hand, waving weakly.

Sam chuckled a little at her action, appreciating that she was trying to lighten the mood.  “All right.”

 

It had started to get dark by the time Sam dropped Jaime off at the Green Valley Motel.  She took the room key from him and ran inside without so much as a _‘goodbye.’_   Jaime had barely shut the door before she was in the bathroom, hands on the seat as she held her head over the toilet.  She took deep breaths, trying to keep from vomiting, and squeezed her eyes shut.

The feeling of bile in her throat eventually died down, and she moved to sit on the edge of the tub.  Jaime kept taking deep and steady breaths until she felt well enough to stand.  She decided now would be as good a time as any to shower.  She left the door open as she undressed—no one else was there anyway—and turned on the faucet.

Her shower didn’t take very long, and she had run from the car so quickly that she forgot to grab extra clothes, so she put on the ones she had been wearing.  They were a little damp from sweat and felt gross, but they were all she had.

Jaime walked out of the bathroom and lied down on the bed, grabbing the remote and turning on the television.  She didn’t recognize the show but didn’t change the channel, not caring what kind of entertainment Blue Earth had to offer.  She remembered when she didn’t have to worry about wearing the same clothes more than twice a week.  Jaime sighed and stared at the ceiling.  The sounds coming from the T.V. became white noise as she quickly fell asleep.

 

Dean had come back to the motel almost an hour later.  The door had opened loudly, snapping Jaime out of her sleep.  She reached for her pistol and pointed it at the intruder, only to see Dean with his hands up and a proud smirk on his face.  She groaned, lowered her gun, and fell back on the mattress, pressing her hands over her eyes.

While she had been asleep, the show had been replaced with a static screen.  Dean tried to change the channel, but nothing happened.  He asked her what was up, but Jaime just shrugged.  He brought out his cell phone, and said something about there being no service before he lied down on the other bed.

About twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.  Jaime got up and looked through the peephole, then opened the door and let Sam inside.

“Where you been?” Dean asked, cracking open an eye as his brother stumbled in.

“Drinkin’.”

“You rebel.” Jaime grinned.

“I’d have had more, but,” Sam cleared his throat as he pulled off his jacket, “it was curfew.”

“Right.”

“Did you know they shut down the cell towers?”

“I figured it was something like that.” Dean nodded to his phone beside him.  “Can’t get any service.”

Jaime lifted the remote and turned on the T.V., and static filled the room.  “No cable, no internet—nothing.”

“Total cut-off from the _‘corruption of the outside world.’_ ” Sam made finger quotes around the last part of his sentence.

Dean made a nonchalant sound of acknowledgement and leaned back against the bed.  Jaime glanced at him, her brows furrowing in concern.

“Don’t you get it?” Sam asked.  “They’re turning this place into some kind of fundamentalist compound.”

“No, I get it.”

“And all you’ve got is a _‘hm?’_   What’s wrong with you?”

“I get it.  I just don’t care.” Dean swung his legs over the bed, sitting up.  Sam was surprised.  Jaime stayed quiet as she watched the brothers argue.  “What difference does it make?” He continued, a careless expression on his face.

“It makes a hell of a—“ Sam stopped, staring at his brother in disbelief.  He scoffed.  “At what point does this become too far for you?  Stoning?  Poisoned Kool-Aid?” He moved across the room.  Jaime pulled her legs up as he sat down, opposite of Dean.  “The angels are toying with these people!”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face.  “Angel world, angel rules, man.”

“And since when is that okay with you?”

“Since the angels got the only lifeboats on the _Titanic._ ” Dean stood up and grabbed his coffee mug from off the nightstand.  He moved over to the dresser next to the T.V., using the coffee maker on top to pour himself a fresh cup.  “Who exactly is supposed to come along and save these people?  Jaime?  Us?  We can’t do it.”

Jaime lowered her head when Dean mentioned her name, keeping quiet.  “So, what?” Sam said.  “You wanna—You wanna just stop fighting and roll over?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

Sam took a deep breath, shaking his head.  “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t do this.”

“Actually, I can.”

“No, you can’t.” Sam got off the bed and faced his brother.  “You can’t do this to _me._ ” He let out a shaky breath.  “You think you’re the only one white-knuckling it here, Dean?  I can’t…” He glanced over his shoulder at Jaime.  “I can’t do this alone.”

Jaime closed her eyes.  She pulled her legs close, leaning forward and resting her head on her knees.  She was no help to them, why did she think she could improve and try to be anything but a burden.  Dean shook his head and set his cup down.  He moved past Sam and grabbed his jacket.  Sam called out, trying to stop him.

“I gotta clear my head.” He said, grabbing his jacket.

“It’s past curfew, Dean.” Sam said.  Dean ignored him and shut the door with a **_SLAM!_**

 

After Dean had left and the air in the motel room became a little less tense, Sam and Jaime had decided to read up angel lore.  There was no way to get any service, so they had examined most of the books in the Winchester’s inventory.  Jaime had been searching for a reason why the angels would have a town act in such a strange way.  Sam looked into the omens and increased demon activity, trying to piece together what that had to do with angels.

Sam sighed, not finding anything in the book he had been reading.  He set it aside and grabbed another one.  The weight at the end of the bed suddenly disappeared, and he lifted his head to see Jaime running into the bathroom.

“Whoa, Jaime?” He put the book down and rushed to the bathroom.  He stepped back when he heard her heaving then vomiting into the toilet.  “Jaime?  Jaime, what’s going on?”

She didn’t say anything, groaning and trying to take deep breaths.  She let out a few wet coughs as she remained hunched over the toilet.  Her eyes were shut tight as she did her best to stand up.  Her legs shook, and Sam moved inside the bathroom.  He wrapped his arms around her torso and shoulder and helped her over to the bed.  He sat down next to her as she slumped forward.

“Seriously, what is going on with you?” He asked.  “You’ve looked pretty bad ever since we got here.”

“I don’t know.” She admitted.  “I just…  Maybe I’m just really sick or something, maybe…  Maybe it has something to do with the town itself, or the people here.”

“The people?  What does that mean?”

Jaime shook her head.  “I’m not…one hundred percent sure, but…” She looked up at him.  “Every time I hear Leah speak, or even if I just _look_ at her, I feel,” Her hands wrapped around her stomach, “I just feel really _awful,_ Sam.  It’s horrible.”

“I can imagine.”

She nodded.  “Just…  Let me lie down for a while, maybe it’ll go away if I just rest.”

Sam agreed, and he moved to sit on the other bed as Jaime laid down and closed her eyes.  She heard some papers shuffling and assumed he had grabbed another book to read.  She sighed as she did her best to fall asleep.

           

Jaime opened her eyes minutes later, unable to sleep after tossing and turning so much.  She sighed and sat up, groaning as a few of her joints cracked.

“Can’t sleep?” Sam said from the other bed.

Jaime shook her head.  “No.” She moved off the bed, holding a hand out to stop Sam when he stood up.  “But I am feeling just a little better.”

“You were barely out ten minutes, and even then, you weren’t resting at all.”

“Well, regardless, I’m feeling better.”

Sam shrugged and sat back down.  Jaime grabbed one of the books from off the bed.  As she opened it, however, a voice spoke up from behind her.

“I got your message.” Jaime jumped and spun around to see Castiel standing in front of the fridge.  He teetered a little as he stared inside the appliance, keeping himself steady with an arm on the open door.  Sam let out a relieved sigh when he saw the angel.  Castiel didn’t look at either of them as he continued.  “It was long, your message.  I find the sound of your voice… _exhausting._ ”

Jaime took a step towards him.  “Cas, what’s wrong?”

The angel closed the fridge.  The loss of support made him lose his balance, and he took a shaky step backwards.  Sam’s eyes narrowed curiously.  “Are you…drunk?”

“No.” Castiel turned and tried to move forward, but he stumbled.  He quickly grabbed and leaned against the divider to steady himself.  “…Yes.” He sounded irritated.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“I found a liquor store.”

“And?”

“And I drank it.” Castiel rolled his head to look at Jaime.  His eyes were lidded.  “Why’d you call me?” He pushed away from the divider and started forward again, swaying with each step.

“Be careful, Cas.” Jaime moved out of his path, holding her hands out in case he started to tip towards her.  He stared at her, expression distant.

Sam gave an airy chuckle as he helped steady the angel.  “Are you okay?”

Castiel lifted a hand and beckoned Sam close.  He leaned towards the angel, who put his mouth beside Sam’s ear.  “Don’t ask stupid questions.” He said.  Jaime stifled a laugh as Sam leaned away, looking slightly offended that his concern had been betrayed.  “Tell me what you need.”

“Uhm…  There have been demon attacks, pretty big ones, just outside of town.” Jaime started.

“We can’t figure out why they’re—“

“Any sign of angels?”

“Sort of.” Sam continued.  Castiel became curious.  “They’ve been speaking to this prophet.”

“Who?”

“Her name’s Leah Gideon.”

“She’s not a prophet.”

Jaime snapped her fingers.  “I knew it!”

Sam raised a brow.  “What?  No, I’m pretty sure she is.  Visions, headaches—the whole package.”

Castiel sighed and looked up at the ceiling.  “The names of _all_ the prophets are seared into my brain.” He then looked at Sam.  “Leah Gideon is not one of them.”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprised.  Jaime crossed her arms.  “So, what is she?”

Castiel shrugged.  “I don’t know.”

“Great.” Sam sighed.  He turned away, grabbed his cell phone, and headed outside.

When the motel door was shut, Castiel closed his eyes and groaned.  Jaime tilted her head as she watched him.  “I’ve never had a normal hangover, so I can’t even imagine what a _celestial_ hangover is gonna be like.”

Castiel glared at her before he staggered over to the couch.  Jaime moved to his side and helped him sit.  His head fell back against the cushions, and he let out another pained groan as he rubbed the spot between his eyes.

“You don’t look so good.” Jaime said.

“You don’t, either.” He responded, opening an eye and staring at her.  “I got your message.”

She tensed.  “I know…  We just—Sam said I should call, so I—“

“How’s your neck?”

“What?”

“Your neck.” Castiel lifted a hand and reached forward.  Jaime leaned away from him before he could touch her.  He lowered his hand.  It fell on top of hers, but she pulled away.  “How’s your neck?”

“It’s fine.” She said quickly, standing and turning away.

“He burned you.”

“I’m _fine,_ Cas.”

A beat of silence passed between them before Castiel muttered a quiet, “Okay.”

The motel door opened as Sam re-entered.  “There’s still no service.” He held up his phone for emphasis then set it down on the table in front of the couch.  He grabbed his jacket and slipped it on.  “I’m gonna go look for Dean.  You,” He pointed at Castiel, who rolled his head to face him, “you…”

“We’ll be fine, Sam.” Jaime said.

Sam looked between her and the angel before he sighed.  “All right.” He turned around and left the motel again.

Castiel made an annoyed sound when the door shut, lifting his hands and pressing them over his eyes.  Jaime grabbed a lore book she hadn’t read yet and sat in one of the chairs near the couch.  “You’re staying awake?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah.  We need to find out what’s going here, and what Leah really is.”

The angel hummed as he laid his head back against the couch, closing his eyes.  His breathing evened out, and Jaime continued to flip through the old book.

 

**MARCH 5, 2010**

The next morning came quick.  Sam had come back around four in the morning, without Dean.  Jaime hadn’t found anything, and Castiel had fallen asleep on the couch.  They didn’t talk much as they both continued to read the lore books until something curious came up.  Jaime had to wake up Castiel to confirm that what they found could be the cause of what was happening.  Almost two hours later, when the sun finally started to rise, the motel door opened and Dean walked inside.

Sam looked up.  “Hey, where have you been, I went out looking for—“ He cut himself off, eyes drifting down to his brother’s hands.  Jaime followed his gaze and saw that they were covered with blood.  “You all right?”

“Yeah,” He answered, voice quiet, “it—it’s not my blood.” He sighed.  “Paul’s dead.”

_The bartender?_ “What?”

“Jane shot him.”

_Dylan’s mom?_ “Why?”

“It’s starting.” Castiel spoke up.

Dean looked at the angel, then at his brother, then back to the angel.  “What’s starting—where the hell have you been?”

“On a bender.”

“Did he—“ Dean raised a brow, confused.  “—Did you say _‘on a bender?’_ ”

“Yeah, he’s still pretty smashed.”

“An entire liquor store, apparently.” Jaime crossed her arms.

“It is not of import.” Castiel said, holding up a hand to stop their chit-chat.  He used the same hand to gesture to the open books on the table in front of him.  “We need to talk about what’s happening here.”

“Well, I’m all ears.” Dean said.  He walked over to the sink in the small kitchen, turned it on, and washed the blood off his hands.

Sam shifted in his seat next to Castiel.  “Well, for starters, Leah’s not a real prophet.”

Dean paused.  “Then, what is she, exactly?”

“The whore.”

The older Winchester looked at Castiel, shaking his head in surprise.  “Wow, Cas, tell us what you really think.”

“She rises when Lucifer walks the Earth.” He explained.

Jaime picked up one of the books and held it open to a page titled _‘The Seduction of Evil.’_   “ _’And she shall come, bearing false prophecy.’_   It says she can take on a human’s form and read minds.” She handed the book to Dean when he walked over.  “Revelation calls her _‘the Whore of Babylon.’_ ”

Dean looked at the picture on the opposite page, labeled with the same name.  “That’s catchy.”

“The real Leah was probably killed months ago.”

“What about the demons attacking the town?”

“They’re under her control.”

“And the Enochian exorcism?”

“Fake.” Castiel said.  “It actually means, _‘you breed with the mouth of a goat.’_ ” He grinned a little and turned to look at the others when they didn’t laugh.  His smile fell and he shrugged.  “It’s funnier in Enochian.”

“So, the demons smoking out—that’s a just a con?  Why, what’s the endgame?”

“What you just saw—innocent blood spilled in God’s name.”

Jaime nodded.  “When we figured it out, I knew that’s why I had been feeling so sick.” Dean looked at her curiously.  “Ever since we got here, I’ve been feeling like absolute crap.  It would get worse every time I’d hear or even see Leah.  What these people are doing, Dean, it’s making me feel horrible.”

“You heard all that Heaven talk.” Sam said.  “She manipulates people.”

“To slaughter and kill and sing peppy little hymns.” Dean sighed.  He walked back over to the sink, tossing the towel he had been drying his hands with onto the counter.  “Awesome.”

“Her goal is to condemn as many souls to Hell as possible.  And it’s just the beginning.” Castiel said.  “She’s well on her way to dragging this whole town into the pit.”

“All right.  So, how we do go pimp of Babylon all over this bitch?”

Jaime looked at the floor as she thought, and Sam and Castiel glanced at each other.  A small wind blew through the room, and when she looked up, Castiel was gone.  “Oh, no.”

Dean threw his hands up.  “Great.”

 

The day went by without too much trouble, with Jaime and the brothers not doing much besides leaving the motel to eat.  They heard about Paul’s funeral while out, and Sam and Dean chose to attend.  Jaime waited for them in the Impala.  It was a short service, and everyone was out in less than twenty minutes.  They drove back to the motel in silence.

Later that evening, Castiel returned in another gust of wind and tossed a pale branch onto the table.  He still seemed out of it.  “The whore can be killed with that.” He turned and walked over to the sink, opening a cabinet and taking out a glass.  “It’s a stake made from a cypress tree in Babylon.”

Dean picked it up and looked it over before handing it to Sam.  “Great.  Let’s ventilate her.”

Castiel, now holding a glass full of water, shook his head.  “It’s not that easy.”

“Of course not.” Jaime muttered.

“The whore can only be killed by a true servant of Heaven.”

“Servant, like—“

“Not you, or me.  Sam, of course, is an abomination.” He took a long drink, then set the glass down and looked at Jaime.  Dean and Sam did the same.

She stiffened.  “Uhm, are…are you sure?” Castiel said nothing.  “I—I don’t think…  I mean, there’s—there’s a preacher in town.” She tried to reason.  “He’s probably more of a servant than I am.  When you think about it, I’m just a vessel.” She slouched a little when she used the word.  “I don’t help, I just… _hold,_ I guess.”

Sam sighed.  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.  A pastor is about as servant as you can get.”

“Okay, so we get the preacher to do it.” Dean said.  “How?”

Jaime looked up at Castiel.  “Tell him you’re an angel.”

Castiel sighed, leaning back against the counter.  “I don’t know if that will work.”

“Do you wanna think of something better?  I’m sure this towns got plenty of time left, so let’s just think of something else.”

The angel narrowed his gaze at Jaime before he disappeared.  When Jaime looked at Sam and Dean, they were staring at her.  “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m really, _really_ sick, Dean.” She stood up and went over to the sink, grabbing the glass of water Castiel left behind.  She tilted her head back and finished it in one large gulp.  “The last time I felt this incredibly bad, I ended up the vessel of God and walked across two states in nine days—which I still don’t remember doing.” Jaime set the glass in the sink when she was done.  “I want to get this over with so that nothing else will happen.”

The brothers seemed to agree.  Sam stayed on the couch, reading through the lore books in case there was any other information on the whore.  Dean got himself a beer from out of the fridge.  Jaime leaned against the sink to support herself.

A few minutes later, the sound of rushing wind was heard in the room.  Sam held the sides of the book to keep the pages from turning.  Castiel was then standing in the room, with Gideon at his side.  The man looked shocked, eyes darting everywhere.

“What was that?”

“Yeah, he wasn’t lying about the angel thing.” Dean said, motioning towards an empty chair.  “Have a seat, _padre,_ we need to talk.”

Gideon sat down, still looking around the room.

Dean sat beside Sam and leaned forward.  “All right, uh…  I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your daughter is not your daughter.” The pastor looked at Dean in disbelief.  “She’s not a prophet, either.”

“Do you know Revelations seventeen?” Sam asked.

“Yes.” Gideon nodded.  “I’ve read Revelations several times since this all started, I’m familiar with it.”

“So, you know about the Whore of Babylon.” Dean assumed.  “Okay, look.  The demons are playing with you, they’re playing with this whole town.”

“The exorcism you’ve been using is fake.” Jaime said as she crossed the room.

“And Leah isn’t Leah, she’s the whore.” Sam said.  “She’s the one who told Jane to kill Paul, and she’s going to drag the entire town into Hell.  You’re the only one that can stop her.”

Gideon didn’t say anything.  He looked down at the branch, still on the table, then shook his head.  “No.  I can’t.  She’s my daughter.”

“She’s not.” Jaime said.  “She’s the thing that killed your daughter.”

“That’s impossible.”

“But it’s true, and deep down, you know it.” Sam said.  Gideon shook his head again, running a hand down his face.  He covered his mouth and stared at the cypress branch.  “Look, we get it—it’s too much.  But if you don’t do this, she’s going to kill a lot of people and damn the rest to Hell.”

Gideon’s brows knit together.  He looked like he was about to cry.  Dean grabbed the branch and held it out to him.  “Just…” He lowered his hand.  “Why does it have to be me?”

“Because you’re a servant of Heaven.” Castiel spoke up.

“And you’re an angel.”

“A poor example of one.”

Jaime frowned as Castiel demeaned himself.  After a beat of silence, Gideon lowered his head with a sigh and nodded.  “Fine.  I’ll do it.”

 

The four had managed to sneak inside the church without anyone seeing them.  Gideon led them down to the basement and into one of the first rooms along the hallway.  He said something about Leah liking that particular room ever since she was a kid.  Jaime could hear the grief in his voice as Dean told everyone to hide.

Minutes later, Leah entered the room.  Jaime held her breath as Leah approached the dresser.  She smiled at her reflection, and Jaime watched as— for a second—her face morphed into something horrific.  Leah’s smile remained as she moved to close the dresser door, but she jumped back when Castiel appeared in front of her.

The angel grabbed her and turned her around, holding her arms behind her back.  Gideon emerged from where he had been hiding and held the stake in both hands.  “Daddy!  Don’t hurt me!” Leah cried out, struggling in Castiel’s hold.

Dean, Sam, and Jaime rushed out, and Sam called out to Gideon, but he had hesitated.  In that split second of uncertainty, Leah turned her head and muttered something to Castiel.  He suddenly cried out painfully, releasing her and collapsing to the floor.

“Cas!” Jaime yelled.

Leah held up her hands, palms facing Gideon, and the pastor was suddenly pushed back against a wall.  She turned to the other three, and they were thrown back by an invisible force.  Jaime grunted when her back hit a wall and she slid to the floor.  Pain rushed up her spine.  “Gideon!” She heard Sam shout.  “Wait, no!”

Sam and Dean ran out after Leah and the pastor.  Jaime quickly pushed herself onto her feet and looked at Castiel.  “Cas, are you okay!?”

“I’ll be fine!” He said through his teeth.  Jaime didn’t believe him.  His hand was tight against his chest, and blood dripped from his mouth onto the floor.  “Just go!”

She ran out the door and down the hall.  The sounds of people fighting were coming from another room, the one where she had seen everyone preparing weapons.  Jaime stopped at the open doors and saw Leah on top of Dean as he tried to reach for the discarded cypress branch.

Immediately, someone tackled her.  The wind was knocked out of her as the person wrapped their arms around her torso, trapping her arms against her sides.  She twisted in their hold, kicking her legs in hopes she would get free.  “Dean, do something!”

“This is why my team’s gonna win.” Leah taunted, hands tight around Dean’s throat.  “You’re the vessel of Michael?  You’re pathetic, self-hating, and faithless.  And her, over there?” She nodded her head towards Jaime, still struggling against the man who grabbed her.  “She’s just as bad, if not worse.  It’s the end of the world, and you’re just gonna sit back and watch it happen.”

Dean grabbed the cypress branch and smacked Leah across the face with it.  She lost her grip around his neck, and he quickly shoved the stake into her torso.  Leah let out a choked gasp and stared at him.  “Don’t be so sure, whore.” He said.

Using both hands, he drove the stake deeper into Leah.  She groaned as he sat up, pushing her to the ground.  The man holding Jaime released her, and she turned and watched the young woman.  Leah gasped and coughed for a few seconds before black smoke started to waft up from her wound.  Her body sparked a few times as she began to convulse.  The people in the room stopped as the stake suddenly burst into flames, leaving a gaping hole in Leah’s stomach as she fell still.

No one said anything for a few seconds.  Then Jane spoke up.  “I…  I don’t understand.” She kept her eyes on the body.  “How are we supposed to get to paradise now?”

“I’m sorry.” Dean said.  “Pretty sure you’re headed in a different direction.”

Sam helped Gideon back on his feet.  Jaime watched the color fade from Leah’s face, and she pressed a hand over her stomach.  _The feeling’s gone…  I guess that’s one good thing to come out of this._ Jaime then spun around and ran back to the room they had tried to ambush Leah in.

Castiel was still on the ground, huddled in a tight ball.  “Cas?” She said, kneeling beside him.  “Cas, wake up!”

The angel turned over and stared at her through narrowed eyes.  “Jaime?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?” He asked, glancing around the room.

“Leah’s dead.” She said.  Footsteps were heard entering the room, and then Dean was at her side, helping Castiel stand.

They supported the angel and met back up with Sam, who held on to Gideon.  They walked up the basement stairs and exited the church through a side door.  “Dean, how’d you do that?” Sam asked once they were outside.

“What?”

“Kill her.”

“Long run of luck held out, I guess.” Dean grunted.

“Last I checked, she could only be ganked by a servant of Heaven.”

“What do you want me to say—I saw a shot, I went for it.”

Jaime glanced at Dean as they rounded the Impala.  She didn’t believe him.  Dean opened the back door and they both helped Castiel into the car.

Sam helped Gideon on the other side and shut the door before he looked at his brother.  “Are you gonna do something stupid?”

“Like what?”

“Like _Michael-_ stupid.”

“Come on, Sam.” Dean glared as he pulled the driver’s door open.  “Give me a break.”

Sam let out a short huff as he climbed in after his brother.  Jaime slid into the back seat next to Castiel.  Dean started the car and pushed down on the gas pedal as he drove back to the motel.

 

**MARCH 6, 2010**

“We’re leaving as soon as possible.” Dean said as he and Jaime helped Castiel onto the motel bed.  He turned, grabbed one of the duffel bags from off the floor, and started to put his things inside.

“Just let me patch him up first.” Sam gestured to Gideon after he brought the pastor in.

Dean nodded and continued to pack up.  Jaime picked up another bag and started to put whatever she could grab inside, not caring whose it was.  She zipped it up, and Dean reached past her to grab it and put it next to his, which had been filled completely.  He then walked over to where Sam and Gideon were.

“How’s the head?” He asked.

Jaime saw Sam wrapping up Gideon’s right forearm, and he held an ice pack against his head with the other.  “I’m seeing double.” The pastor said, before he added with a chuckle, “But I think that may be the painkillers.”

“You’ll be okay.”

Gideon shook his head.  “No, I won’t.”

Jaime sighed.  Dean’s arm brushed against her shoulder as he grabbed the two bags and headed for the door.  “Where are you going?”

Sam stopped and watched his brother.  “I’m just gonna grab some clean bandages from the trunk.” He said, glancing at Sam and holding up a hand.  “Relax.” He opened the door and left.

Sam continued to finish bandaging Gideon’s arm.  Jaime took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.  A loud sound suddenly came from outside, a car engine starting.  Sam’s head shot up.  “Damn it!” He cursed, moving quickly and pulling open the door.  “Dean!  _Dean!_ ”

Jaime followed after him, just catching the red taillights of the Impala as Dean sped away.  Sam panted as he ran his hands through his hair.  “Sam, what do we do?” She asked.  “Sam?” He said nothing as he paced the parking lot, cursing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally..........it is done...........  
> after revisions, this one is about 10200 words and 35 pages. it was another one that wasn't too fun to write; i wasn't really inspired for all the content in here plus i HATE the way i ended it. it was so dang boring;;;
> 
> next chapter was SUPER FUN to write so im excited for when i finally post it. why? jaime's gonna get beat up again, duh 8) there's action in it and im not too good at writing that......im good at torturous stuff but not so much action and fights........................... i like to say im a good writer but im only good at what im GOOD at, yknow
> 
> anyways!!! i think there's less than 10 chapters before i finish writing for s5!!! i was planning to try and finish it all before s13 showed up but......college shit and my real novel swamped me so i had to do that before working on this. if you think about it, if this season was hard for me to do how am i supposed to write for.......8 more.....seasons.........................fuck
> 
> title is Everyday People by Jeff Buckley!!


	13. Come What May

After Castiel had woken up, he took Sam and Jaime to Bobby’s.  They told him what had happened to Dean and what they figured he was planning to do.  Bobby immediately gave them another set of car keys, telling them to _‘find the son of a bitch, fast.’_   Sam and Jaime didn’t waste any more time, finding the car the keys matched—a 1973 Buick Century—and driving off.

Dean had turned off his phone’s GPS, making it difficult for Jaime to try to hack his phone’s service and find him.  Sam thought of places Dean might have gone to—people he wanted to see before he offed himself—and he drove nonstop to different states before he had a realization.  He told Jaime about a woman Dean had spent time with in the past, Lisa.  They had worked a case in her town a couple years ago in Indiana.  “If I were Dean, that’s where I would go.” Sam had said.

 

**CICERO, INDIANA — MARCH 9, 2010**

They drove all day and arrived in Cicero sometime after midnight.  Sam drove through every motel parking lot he passed before he caught sight of a familiar black car in the lot of Mike’s Travel Inn.

“It’s the Impala.” Jaime unbuckled her seat belt as Sam parked the Buick.

“Call Cas.”

Sam handed Jaime his cell phone, and she scrolled through his contacts and called Castiel when she found his number.  It rang twice before he answered.  “Did you find Dean?”

“Yeah, we did.  He’s at Mike’s Travel Inn, in Cicero, Indiana.  Meet us here as soon as you can.”

“I will.” He hung up.

Sam had already exited the Buick, and Jaime handed him the phone when she caught up to him.  They stood in front of the door, silent.  Sam pulled a small, metal item from his jacket pocket, and he knelt down and started to pick the door lock.  It clicked after a few seconds and Sam put away the lock pick as he and Jaime both moved inside the room.

Dean was standing in front of a desk with a large mirror, his back to the door.  His head was tilted back as he took a drink of what Jaime assumed was alcohol.  There was a taped up cardboard box on the motel bed.

“Sending someone a candygram?” Sam spoke up despondently.

Dean turned around, honest surprise appearing on his face.  “How’d you find me?”

“You’re gonna kill yourself, right?  It’s not too hard to figure out the stops on the farewell tour.  How’s Lisa?”

Dean looked into his glass.  “I’m not gonna kill myself.”

“No?  So, Michael’s _not_ about to make you his muppet?” Sam asked.  Dean said nothing, taking another drink.  “What the hell, man?  This is how it ends?  You just…walk out?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean said.  He grabbed the bottle of whatever he had been drinking and refilled his glass.  Jaime frowned at the defeat in his voice.

“How could you do that?”

“How could _I?_ ” Dean glared at Sam.  “All you’ve ever done is run away!”

“And I was wrong every single time I did!” Sam exhaled deeply and held his hands out.  “Just…please.  Not now.  Bobby is working on something.”

“Really?  What?” Dean waited for an answer, but he didn’t get one.  “That’s what I thought.  You got nothing, and you know it.”

Sam sighed, and Dean took yet another drink, a little longer than his previous ones.  Jaime stepped forward.  “Dean, you can’t do this.  You know we have to stop you.”

Dean set his half-empty glass on top of the cardboard box.  “You can try, kid.  Just remember: you don’t know how to fight, and Sam’s not hopped up on demon blood this time.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam said.  A quiet, almost non-existent wind went past them, and Sam let out a relieved sigh.  “That’s why we brought help.”

Dean looked confused before his eyes went wide as he turned around.  Castiel was standing behind him.  He tensed as the angel pressed two fingers against his forehead.  Dean’s body went limp, and he collapsed to the ground.

Sam knelt down beside his brother, patting his pockets.  “Find the keys.”

Jaime checked the motel room as Dean was carried outside.  She moved over to the bed and took the glass off the cardboard box, setting it on the floor.  The box had a name written on it, _‘Robert Singer._ ’  Jaime pulled off duct tape that kept it shut.  She opened it and found several of Dean’s things inside, including the Impala keys.

She pocketed the keys and picked up the box before she walked out of the motel room.  Sam looked at her as she approached the Impala.  “I found the keys.” She said.

“Okay, good.  Let’s head back.” He said.  Sam took the keys, as well as the box.  “You think you can drive Bobby’s car?”

“I’ll be fine.” Jaime nodded.  Sam rounded the Impala and climbed in the driver’s side.  Dean was lying unconscious in the backseat, and Jaime sighed as she turned away and headed for the Buick.

 

**SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA**

Jaime and Sam arrived back at Bobby’s long after the sun had risen.  Sam, with the help of Castiel, dragged his still-unconscious brother inside and laid him down on the bed in the study.  “You found him.” Bobby said when they entered.

“Yeah, down in Cicero.” Sam said, looking down at Dean.  “He was going to say yes...” He sighed then turned to Bobby.  “Find anything?”

“Nothing we don’t already know.” Bobby wheeled over to the desk and rummaged through several loose papers and books.  “What are you waitin’ for?” He said after seeing Sam and Jaime still standing in the kitchen entryway.  “Start reading.”

 

“Yeah, no, this is good.” Dean grumbled as he paced around the study.  He had woken up shortly after Sam and Jaime had brought him back.  They watched him carefully, making sure he didn’t have a chance to leave again.  Castiel had stayed, also watching Dean with a grim expression on his face.  “Eight months of turned pages and screwed pooches, but tonight—tonight’s when the magic happens.”

“You ain’t helpin’.” Bobby said.

“Well, why don’t you let me get outta your hair, then?”

Bobby finally raised his head to look at Dean.  “What the hell happened to you?”

“Reality happened.” Dean crossed his arms as he approached the desk.  Bobby set his lore book aside.  “Nuclear’s the only option we have left.  Michael can ice the devil, save a boatload of people.”

“But not _all_ of them.  We gotta think of something else.”

Dean glanced at Jaime and Sam, but they said nothing.  “That’s easy for you to say.  If Lucifer burns this mother down, and I could’ve done something about it, guess what?” Dean slapped a hand against the desk, raising his voice.  “That’s on me!”

“You can’t give up, son.”

Dean scoffed, an apathetic grin crossing his face as he shook his head.  “You’re not my father.  And you ain’t in my shoes.”

Bobby’s face fell at the words.  Jaime frowned, glancing between the two hunters.  She wanted to interject, to say _something_ that could help diffuse the tense atmosphere—that could give everyone in the room some kind of assurance—but she couldn’t.  Nothing she could have said would make anything better.  She wouldn’t be able to stop the apocalypse with a few, optimistic words.  So, Jaime stayed quiet.

Sam gave Dean a disappointed look and shook his head.  There was a gentle **_THUD,_** and Jaime saw Bobby place a revolver on top of the desk.  She, Sam, and Dean watched, confused, as he reached into the breast pocket of his flannel and brought out a single bullet.  He held it between his fingers.

“What is that?” Dean asked.

“That’s the round I mean to put through my skull.” He didn’t take his eyes off of it as he set it on the desk.  “Every morning, I look at it and I think, _‘Maybe today’s the day I flip the lights out.’_   But I don’t do it.  I _never_ do it.  You know why?” He turned to Dean, then yelled, “Because I promised _you_ I wouldn’t give up!”

No one said anything.  Jaime looked at the bullet for a moment longer before she heard a soft, faint whispering.  Her eyes darted around the room.  _What was that?  I didn’t—_ “Augh—!” A second later, Jaime pressed her hands against her ears and let out a painful scream.

At the same time, Castiel hunched over and let out a low groan.  Sam looked between the two while Dean stood alert, his hand clenching into tight fists.  “Are you guys okay?” Sam asked.

“No.” Castiel said, pressing a hand against his temple.

“What’s wrong?”

The angel straightened up, and his eyes met Jaime’s.  She stared back at him, panting gently and eyes wide in confusion.  In an instant, Castiel was gone.  Papers flew gently across the room with the wind that left with him.  Sam turned to Jaime.  “What the hell was that about?”

“Something’s happening.” She answered, leaning forward.  Her head was pounding, and there was a sharp ringing in her ears.  _I know this sound.  It’s like what I heard in Utah, back when God…_ Her eyes widened.

Dean noticed her change in expression.  “What’s goin’ on?”

Jaime shook her head.  “I don’t know.  I’m not sure, it’s…  It’s something bad.” She supported herself on the table as she stood up.  Sam moved to help her, but she stopped him.  “No, don’t, I just…  I’ll be right back.”

Jaime moved up to the second floor, feeling three pairs of eyes on her the entire way.  When she made it to the bathroom, she shut the door and locked it.  She closed the lid to the toilet and sat down, taking a moment to catch her breath.  _What was that?  Cas and I, we both felt it…_ Jaime held her face in her hands, groaning.

She stayed there for a few minutes, taking deep and steady breaths to calm herself down.  Everyone else had so much going on, and she didn’t want to bother them with any of her own grievances, so she kept everything she felt inside.  Jaime wiped at her eyes, just realizing she had started to cry a little, and moved to stand up.  An immense pain suddenly ripped through her chest and spread throughout her body.  A short cry left her, and she quickly slapped a hand over her mouth.

Her legs gave out, and she fell to the floor.  Jaime muffled her screams and shut her eyes, tears spilling over as a second wave of agonizing pain erupted from her.  The hand not over her mouth clenched around the rug on the bathroom floor.  She curled in on herself, breathing heavily.  In an instant, the pain disappeared, and Jaime removed her hand and took a deep breath, exhaling loudly.  Her body trembled as she remained on the floor, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she cried.

_An angel…two of them.  They’re dead._ Jaime remembered what Lucifer had said to her when she felt that pain for the first time.  _He said this would happen, that angels—everyone—would keep dying.  God, I…I don’t think I can do this._

Jaime used the bathtub, the towel rack, the sink—whatever she could manage to grab onto—to help her back to her feet.  She walked slowly out of the bathroom.  If her legs gave out again, she wasn’t sure if she’d be willing to get back up.  There was a shout from downstairs, and Jaime could hear Bobby ask someone something.

Her strength had returned by the time she made it downstairs.  Jaime saw Bobby, Sam, Dean, and Castiel standing around the bed under the window, staring down at something on it.  As she moved closer, she saw that the _something_ was actually a _someone._   “What’s going on?” She asked, standing between Dean and Castiel.  A young man was lying on the bed, covered in dirt and mud, breathing steadily.

“This is…” Dean trailed off, shaking his head and turning around.  “Cas, what the hell?”

Castiel placed two silver blades on Bobby’s desk, keeping his eyes on the sleeping man.  “Angels.”

“Angels, why?” Sam turned to Castiel, as well.

Jaime looked back and forth between them.  “Wait, what’s going on?  Who is that?”

“His name’s Adam.” Bobby said.  “He…  He’s Sam and Dean’s half-brother.”

“What?” Her eyes widened, and she looked at the Winchesters.  “You have another brother?”

“ _Had_ another brother.” Sam corrected.  “He died about a year ago.”

“He shouldn’t be here.” Dean said, still talking to Castiel.  “We _burned_ his body, Cas.  Tell us what’s goin’ on.”

“I don’t know.” The angel said firmly.  He looked at Adam’s body before he leaned towards it.  “I do know one thing for sure.  We need to hide him, now.” Castiel placed his hand on Adam’s chest.  An ethereal glow emitting from his palm.  Adam’s eyes snapped open, and he groaned in discomfort until the angel pulled his hand away.

Adam quickly sat-up, backing up against the window behind him.  His eyes darted over everyone in the room.  “Where am I?” He finally said, voice raspy.

“It’s okay.” Sam said.  “Just relax, you’re safe.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“You’re gonna find this a little,” Dean paused, “a _lot_ crazy, but we’re actually your brothers.”

“It’s the truth.  John Winchester was our father, too.” Sam explained.  “I’m Sam—“

“Yeah, and I’m sure that’s Dean.” Adam interrupted, blue eyes snapping to the eldest Winchester.  The two looked a little surprised.  “I know who you are.”

“How?”

“They warned me about you two.”

“Who did?”

“The angels.” Adam said.  He glanced at Jaime.  She stared back at him, baffled.  “Who’s she?  A sister, or something?”

Sam glanced over his shoulder and answered quickly, “No, her name’s Jaime.”

Adam’s eyes widened as he stared up at her.  “You?  You’re Jaime?”

Jaime blinked, looked away, then looked back at Adam.  “Y—Yeah, uh…  That’s me.”

Dean moved the conversation away from Jaime.  “Adam, wait, what did you mean the angels—!”

Adam suddenly jumped off the bed and lunged at Jaime.  He crashed into her and knocked her down.  She screamed as she landed on her back.  Adam’s hands wrapped around her throat and squeezed, cutting off her screams.  Jaime grabbed at his hands, trying to pull them off, put she couldn’t.  Sam and Dean grabbed Adam’s arms and pulled him off of Jaime.  Castiel was at her side instantly, holding her arms and helping her to her feet.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Dean shouted.

Adam struggled against his half-brothers, arms reaching out for Jaime.  Castiel stepped in front of her, shielding her.  “I have to kill her!” He shouted.

“Adam, stop!” Sam said.  He didn’t listen, still thrashing against their holds.  “What are you talking about?”

“What did the angels tell you, boy?” Castiel asked, eyes narrow as he remained in front of Jaime.

“She’s the vessel!  The vessel of God!”

Sam and Dean looked at each other before they turned to Jaime.  “How do you know that?” Castiel questioned again.

Adam continued to fight against Sam and Dean.  “I have to—I have to kill her!  Zachariah said I have to!”

“What?”

“He told me if she stays alive, everything they’ve planned will fall apart!”

Jaime’s eyes widened.  _The angels really do want me dead._

“Jaime, get out of here!” Dean told her.  She ran out of the study and into the kitchen, opening the side door and running through the salvage yard.  Jaime stopped near the back of the yard, turning around and facing the house.  Shouting was still coming from inside, and Jaime twisted the hem of her shirt in her hands.  She chewed her lip, biting away at the skin.

 

Sam met her outside almost thirty minutes later.  “You can come back in.” He said.

“Is your brother gonna try to kill me again?”

“No, he’s—Jaime, look,” Sam tried to reason, “he’s just a scared kid, that’s all.”

“So was I, Sam.” She said.  “ _I_ was just a scared kid, and look what happened.” Sam’s eyes moved to her arm then up to her neck before he looked away.  “You should know what happens to _‘scared kids’_ when they end up in something like this.  Something bad is going to happen, Sam, and even if you think there’s a way to stop it, you won’t be able to.  None of you has ever been able to stop it.”

“We’re trying out best, Jaime.” Sam said, voice irritated.  “Think whatever you want, but we _will_ stop the apocalypse.”

Jaime shook her head.  “Dean was right.  We have no plan, we have nothing.”

Sam scoffed in disbelief.  “Whatever.” He turned around and headed back towards the house.  Jaime followed him silently, arms crossed.  When they walked in through the kitchen side door, Adam was sitting at the table, eating a sandwich.  Jaime saw him tense when he locked eyes with her.

Jaime looked into the study, and saw Bobby, still flipping through books, illuminated by a few lights in the house.  They must have been turned on while she was still outside, when the sun had disappeared past the horizon.  Castiel and Dean were nowhere to be seen.  Jaime turned back to Adam.  “Why did you try to kill me?”

“What?” He flinched when she spoke directly to him.

“Why did you try to kill me?” She repeated.

“Zachariah told me to.”

“Who is Zachariah?” Jaime turned to Sam.  “That sounds like another angel; is he another angel?”

Sam nodded.  “Yeah, a major dick, too.” Jaime hummed in understanding.  “Adam said Zachariah told him to kill you because you’re the vessel of God.  The angels didn’t expect you to stay alive this long, and with the end of the world so close, they apparently can’t afford any loose ends.”

Jaime frowned.  “I’m a loose end.”

“They told me I’d be a hero in Heaven if I got rid of you.” Adam said.

“I’m sure they did.” Jaime looked into the study again.  “Where are Dean and Cas?”

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he walked past her.  “We put him the panic room.”

“Why?”

“Because this house is full of flight risks, Jaime.” He said.  “Cas is watching him, but I’m gonna go check on him right now.  Wanna come say hi?”

She shook her head.  “I’ll just keep researching with Bobby.”

“All right.  I’ll send Cas up here.”

Sam headed for the basement.  When he was out of sight, Jaime moved into the study, but Adam’s voice stopped her.  “Are you really God?”

She faced him.  “No.  I’m not God.  Just some unlucky college kid from Utah He decided to hitch a ride on.”

“You’ve gotta be a little special.” Adam continued.  Jaime raised a brow.  “That other guy—the one in the coat—he said something about bloodlines being important, or something.  And I don’t think the angels would want you dead if you were just _‘some unlucky college kid from Utah.’_ ”

Jaime sighed, turning away from him.  “Yeah, maybe.”

Adam took another bite of his food, staring up at her.  “You don’t say much.”

“Well, it’s kind of weird talking to someone who had his hands around my neck thirty minutes ago.”  Adam shrugged.  Jaime rolled her eyes and finally moved out of the kitchen.

Castiel emerged from the basement below the stairs.  He leaned against the divider in the study, keeping his eyes on Adam.  Jaime stood next to him, and he didn’t look at her as he spoke.  “I rebelled for this.”

“What?”

“I gave up everything with the hope that we could fix this, that we could stop the apocalypse.  And now Dean wants to give up?” He asked himself.  “I thought we had a chance.” Castiel looked at Jaime.  “But we don’t.  I’m starting to believe that.  You do, too, don’t you?”

Jaime didn’t answer him.  She didn’t need to.

 

**MARCH 10, 2010**

Hours passed, and soon enough, Jaime began to hear the sound of early morning birds and smell the dewy morning air.  Sam and Castiel had switched places during the night.  Castiel disappeared down into the basement while Sam both researched through the lore books and kept an eye on Adam.  The youngest Winchester had fallen asleep, and it was still dark out when Sam decided he would go watch Dean once again.

He headed into the basement, only to emerge seconds later, frantic.  “Dean’s gone.”

“What?”

“I thought Cas was watching him?”

“Cas got blown to Oz.” Sam said.  “Dean made an angel banishing sigil.  I’m gonna go look for him.” He grabbed his jacket from off one of the chairs in the study.  “Watch Adam.”

“How?” Bobby whispered.  “You may have noticed, he’s got a slight height advantage.”

“I’ll help, don’t worry.” Jaime said.  Bobby gave her a look, not exactly inducing confidence.

“Thanks.” Sam slipped on his jacket and headed outside.

Jaime and Bobby both glanced at Adam, still asleep on the bed under the window.  “Let’s keep looking.” Bobby said.  Jaime nodded, moving over to the desk and grabbing another book.

 

Adam stared out at the empty playground.  He held his hands together in front of his face, eyes wistful as a gentle fog surrounded the area.  The entire mood was tranquil, and Adam smiled to himself.

“Your mom’s not coming, you know.” Adam leaned back on the park bench and turned to see who had spoken.  An older man in a suit sat beside him, staring out at the fog-filled park.  “This is the park where your mom took you on her day off, right?” The man nodded, answering himself.  “She’s not coming—not yet.  But she will, soon.”

Adam gave the man a once-over.  “You’re Zachariah, right?”

“I am.”

“And you’re here,” He looked out at the park, “which means I’m dreaming.”

“Probably.” Zachariah answered.  “You weren’t where you were supposed to be, kid.”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t quite zero in on you, either.” The angel looked around.  “So, let me take a wild guess—you’re with Sam and Dean.”

Adam nodded.  “Jaime’s there, too.”

Zachariah scoffed in disappointment, shaking his head and facing Adam.  “Didn’t we tell you about them?  About her?” Adam nodded again.  “You know you can’t trust them, right?  Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other.  That vessel isn’t even worth our time, but she’s going to cause trouble for us.”

“Sam and Dean said a few things about you.”

Zachariah paused.  “Really?”

“Yeah.” Adam looked at the ground.  “I don’t get it.  Jaime, she looks…”

“She’s a stranger, Adam.  A nobody.”

“She looks scared.” Adam didn’t see Zachariah’s peeved expression.  “Like she doesn’t belong there.”

“You’re right.  She doesn’t belong; she shouldn’t have gotten involved or played a part in all of this.” Zachariah explained.  “ _God_ shouldn’t have gotten involved.  This is a matter of the angels, Adam, not God.”

Adam looked up at him.  “So, what, you want me to kill God?”

“Kill the _vessel._ ”

“But won’t that—“

“It’ll be easy.” Zachariah shrugged nonchalantly, as if asking someone to kill someone else was just another run-of-the-mill errand for him.  “She’s weak, she doesn’t know what kind of power she actually holds or even how to use it.  She’s vulnerable.” Zachariah sighed.  “Look, if you really don’t want to do it, then you don’t have to.” Adam raised his head, curious.  “Bring the vessel to us.  We’ll take care of her.”

“You’ll kill her?”

Zachariah shrugged again.  “Maybe.  If we have her, keep her locked up, then we may not need to.”

Adam shook his head.  “I don’t know…”

“Trust me, kid, when the heat gets hot, no one’s gonna give a crap about her or you.  Sam and Dean would rather save each other’s sweet bacon than save the planet.” Zachariah leaned towards Adam, lowering his voice.  “They’re not your family.  Understand?  Now,” The angel smirked and smacked Adam’s leg encouragingly, “you wanna see your mom again or not?”

 

Jaime hadn’t found anything in the last hour or so.  Many of Bobby’s lore books provided no information, and some of them weren’t even in English.  She had gotten frustrated but didn’t say anything.  Bobby had been working just as hard, if not harder.  It didn’t seem fair to whine about not finding anything.

She sighed, leaning back in the chair and raising her arms above her head.  She winced a little as her spine cracked.  Bobby kept his eyes on the book he was reading.  After a minute, Jaime exhaled deeply and slouched forward.

An arm suddenly wrapped around her neck and pulled her up out of the chair.  Jaime let out a choked scream as she was pulled to her feet.  The chair fell back loudly, alerting Bobby of what was happening.  A hand rapidly searched her before her pistol was grabbed out of her jacket pocket, and it clicked beside her head.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’, boy!?” Bobby shouted, grabbing his own gun from off his lap.

The pistol was pressed against her temple, and Bobby paused.  His mouth was set in a thin line, and Jaime watched him lower his gun.  “I’m getting out of here!” Adam shouted, his voice in Jaime’s ear.  “I’m taking her with me!”

“Don’t be stupid!  You think the angels are gonna reward you for this?  They’re playing you!”

“I don’t care.” Adam said.  “I’m gonna become Michael’s vessel, I’m gonna see my mom again, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Adam, please.” Jaime turned her head a bit.  “Don’t do this, the angels won’t—“

“Zachariah!” He shouted.  “Zachariah, come get me!”

“Adam, stop!” Bobby raised his gun again.  “Don’t—“

Jaime tensed as a flash of light filled her vision.  She felt weightless for just a second, then heavy once again.  Adam let go of her, and she fell forward.  Jaime landed on a floor, different from Bobby’s—a polished, light-burgundy color—and she looked up to see a room that was _definitely_ different from Bobby’s.  White walls with gold accents and huge, framed paintings hanging from them.  A fireplace was on one side of the room, and there was an extravagant table in the middle.  A door, as elegant as the rest of the room, was just past the fireplace.

Jaime rushed to her feet, ignoring Adam as he gazed at the room in awe, and ran for the door.  Her body slammed against it, and she grabbed at the handle, twisting and pulling in hopes it would open.  It didn’t.  She was suddenly jerked away from the door and thrown back against the far wall.  The wind was knocked out of her, and she cried out in pain, mouth falling open and gasping for air.

“Hello, vessel.” A man’s voice rang out.  Jaime opened her eyes to see a man in a suit on the other side of the table.  He held his arms behind his back, and there was a smirk on his face.  “I’m Zachariah, and I’m here to make sure you stay out of our way.”

 

“Bobby, what do you mean they’re gone?”

“Should I say it in Spanish?”

“Gone, how?” Sam raised his voice, distraught.  He ran a hand over his face.  “What the hell, Bobby!?”

“Watch your tone, boy.” Bobby scolded.  “They were right in front of me, then Adam shouted for Zachariah to come get ‘im, and then they disappeared into thin air.”

“Because the angels took Adam.”

Sam and Bobby turned around to see Castiel, suddenly appearing in the study.  He supported an unconscious and beaten Dean.  “What the hell happened to him?”

“Me.” The angel said.  He dropped Dean onto the study bed, and the hunter fell heavy against the spring-filled mattress.”

Bobby wheeled back into the study.  “What do you mean, the angels took him?  You branded his ribs, didn’t you?”

“Yes.  Adam must have tipped them.” Castiel lifted his gaze to scan the room.

“How?”

“I don’t know, maybe in a dream.” He turned to Sam and Bobby.  “Where’s Jaime?”

“Adam grabbed her before he disappeared.”

“What?” Castiel glared at Bobby.  “How could you let her be taken?  Do you realize how much danger she’s in at the hands of someone like Zachariah?”

“Don’t you talk to me like—“

“She could already be _dead,_ and without her, there’s no hope left for this universe.”

“Cas, stop!” Sam stepped in.  Castiel continued to glare at Bobby, incensed by what he believed to be carelessness on the hunter’s part.  “If we figure out where Zachariah would’ve taken them, then we can get her back.  There’s still a chance he hasn’t killed her, right?”

Castiel nodded.  “Yes.  The angels want her dead, but there’s a chance they would prefer to keep her captive in Heaven, with God remaining inside, unable to leave the vessel.”

“Okay, see, there’s still hope.” Sam said.  “Now, do you have any idea where the angels would have taken them?”

Castiel looked off to the side, narrowing his eyes in thought.  He faced Sam after a moment.  “There is one place.”

 

Jaime struggled against the ropes that held her to the chair she had been forced into.  The ropes had started to bite into her wrists, causing an irritated redness to well-up on her skin.  Zachariah had conjured up two large, silver bowls for Adam—one filled with ice cold beer, and the other with hamburgers stacked on top of each other.

Adam had been hungry, if the amount of empty burger wrappers on the table were anything to go by.  Jaime hadn’t been offered anything.  It didn’t matter.  She had been too focused on trying to get out of her bonds.

Zachariah glanced at Jaime, looking her up and down.  “So,” He started, and she tensed and stopped tugging on the ropes, “you’re God’s vessel.”

She frowned at him.  “I have a name besides _‘vessel.’_ ”

“And I don’t care what it is.” The angel walked over to her.  Jaime leaned back against the chair, as if that would put some distance between them.  He crossed his arms and looked her over again.  “Hm.  You’re shorter than I pictured.”

“Lucifer said the same thing.”

“You’ve met Lucifer?” Zachariah looked down at her right forearm then at her neck.  He smirked.  “I’m surprised he didn’t kill you.”

“He said he needed me.  He wanted to use me as a vessel.”

“I take it you said no.”

“Aren’t you quite the Captain Obvious.”

“Watch it, vessel.” His eyes narrowed before he turned away and faced Adam, who was still eating his third burger.  Zachariah leaned against the table.  “I see you and Dean share the same refined palates.”

Adam held a hand to his mouth as he let out a small burp.  “So, uh…  We ready?”

“For what?”

“What do you mean?  For Michael.”

Zachariah’s mouth fell open in realization.  “Oh, right.  About that…” Jaime stared at the angel’s back, suspicious.  “Look, this is never easy, but I’m afraid we’ve had to terminate your position at this time.”

Adam’s face fell, and his eyes became harsh.  “Excuse me?”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, you’ve been a hell of a sport, really—you brought us the vessel of God,” Zachariah pointed his thumb at Jaime, “which is good stuff.” He held his fingers up in the _‘okay’_ gesture.  “But the thing is, you’re not so much the _‘chosen one’_ as you are a clammy scrap of bait.”

“But what about the stuff you said?  I’m supposed to fight the devil.”

“Mm, not so much.  Hey, if it’s any consolation, you do happen to be the illegitimate half-brother of the guy we do care about.  That’s not so bad, is it?”

“So, you lied about everything.” Adam turned away from Zachariah, shaking his head.

“We didn’t lie.  We just avoided certain truths to manipulate you.”

Adam cursed under his breath.  “I knew it.” Jaime said.  “I knew that whole other vessel crap was nothing but that—crap.” She leaned forward in the chair.  “No wonder God doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, you’re all a bunch of lying dicks!”

“You sure got a mouth on you, don’t you, vessel?”

“My name’s Jaime!”

“I don’t care!” Zachariah shouted, facing her and lifting his hand.  Jaime was suddenly pushed back against the chair, forced to sit up straight and rigid.  “If I hear one more word out of you, I’m _really_ gonna give you something to mouth off to!”

“I can’t believe this…” Adam muttered.

Zachariah turned back to him.  “How do you think _I_ feel?  I’m the one that’s gotta put up with that dumb, slack-jawed look on your face.” He chuckled some, but stopped when Adam glared up at him.  “Kid, we didn’t have a choice.  The Winchesters have one blind spot, and its family.  See, Sam and Dean, they’re gonna put aside their differences, and they’re gonna come get you and the girl, and that’s gonna put Dean right here.” He placed two fingers on the table, tapping them gently.  “Right where I need him.”

Adam glanced past Zachariah, at Jaime.  She shook her head.  His jaw clenched as he grit his teeth.

“This is the night, kid!” Zachariah continued, stepping away from the table.  “ _Our_ night.  Michael’s seen it.  The tumblers finally click into place, and it’s all because of you.” He adjusted the lapels of his blazer, adding, “And me, but who’s keeping score?”

“I’m not gonna let you do this.” Adam stood up, still glaring at Zachariah.

“Cool your jets, corky—sit down, we’re doing it together.  Plus, you still get your severance.  You still get to see your mom, okay?”

“Don’t listen, Adam.” Jaime said.  “If he lied to you before, he’s just gonna do it again to get what he wants.”

“Oh, shut up!” Zachariah raised his voice and turned to her again.  “I am _so_ tired of hearing you run your little mouth!” He held his hand out again, and Jaime lurched forward in her seat, gagging.  She let out a wet, violent cough and watched in horror as she spat blood onto the table and over her legs.  “You know, it’s not a lie that we want you dead.  Not so much God, just you.  Without you—“

“—God has nowhere to go.” She finished, spit and blood mixing together and dripping from her mouth.  Zachariah lowered his hand.  “Lucifer told me what would happen if I died.” Jaime kept her eyes on the angel as she spat blood onto to the flood near him.  “Let me ask—if all of you jerks want me dead so badly, why don’t you just kill me?  What are you stalling for, huh?”

Zachariah stalked towards her as he spoke.  “Because, as much as I want to be the one to make you croak—to see you bleed out, or watch your pretty little skin burn,” He gripped her face in his hand, and she jerked away from him, “there’s someone who wants that even more.”

“And who’s that?”

“Michael.” Jaime’s eyes widened at the archangel’s name, and Zachariah grinned.  “See, when we first heard about God taking a human vessel, none of us thought you’d become a problem.  We figured that, after we had found you, we’d just lock you away in Heaven—God’s contained, and we can still do whatever the hell we want.  But with the big cage match right around the corner, Michael just can’t take anymore chances.  None of us can, really.  Michael and every angel in Heaven has come to the same agreement—we want you dead.”

Jaime felt a cold sweat come over her body.  _He means it…  Michael’s gonna kill me._

“I’m not letting you do this.” Adam’s hands clenched at his sides.

Zachariah turned to him, suddenly looking very uninterested.  “You know what?  I keep hearing this.” He held a hand up and moved his fingers, imitating a person talking.  “But what I want to be hearing is this.” His hand snapped shut, and Adam coughed loudly as he vomited blood over the table.

“Adam!”

The angel turned back to Jaime, holding his hand out.  She squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach and chest tightened, leaning forward and coughing up more blood.  Zachariah looked between the two of them and grinned.  “Yeah, that’s better.”

 

**VAN NUYS, CALIFORNIA**

“Where the hell are we?” Dean asked as he, Sam, and Castiel suddenly appeared in a place completely different from Bobby’s house.  He glanced around the area, taking note of the blue sky, the palm trees, and the large while building to his right.

“Van Nuys, California.” Castiel answered.

“Where’s the beautiful room?”

“In there.”

Dean glanced at the white building.  “The beautiful room is in an abandoned muffler factory in Van Nuys, California?”

Castiel gave him a look.  “Where did you think it was?”

“I—I don’t know, Jupiter?  A blade of grass?” Dean kept his eyes on the building as they drew closer to the entrance.  “Not Van Nuys.”

“Cas, tell me again why you don’t just grab Adam and Jaime then shazam the hell out of there.” Sam asked.

“Because there are at least five angels in there.”

“So?  You’re fast.”

“They’re faster.” Castiel removed his tie and wrapped it around his palm.  Dean and Sam watched him curiously.  “I’ll clear them out, you two grab Adam and Jaime.  This is our only chance.”

“Whoa, wait, you’re gonna take on _five_ angels?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that suicide?”

“Maybe it is.  But at least I won’t have to watch you fail.” Castiel stared at Dean, whose words seemed to die in his throat.  “I’m sorry, Dean.  I don’t have the same faith in you that Sam does.  Right now, all that concerns me is making sure Jaime is alive and stays alive.”

Castiel reached into his pocket and brought out a box cutter.  Dean watched him carefully as he exposed the blade.  “What the hell are you gonna do with that?” Sam asked.

 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed; it wasn’t like there was a clock anywhere that she could look at.  Her head was pounding, and her body ached.  Whenever it had gotten too quiet for him, Zachariah would make Jaime or Adam start coughing and throwing up more blood.  He would smile to himself whenever they would groan painfully or shout for him to stop.

Just when Jaime thought things couldn’t get worse—which, she had learned, they always could—pain erupted in the center of her chest and quickly spread throughout the rest of her body.  She screamed, throwing her head back and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.  Her whole body tensed up and tears formed in the corners of her eyes.  The pain grew immensely, worse than the few times before, just for a second, before it disappeared entirely.  Her head fell forward, and she slumped in the chair, panting heavily.

“What was that?” Jaime heard Zachariah say.  “It certainly wasn’t me.” The angel brought a hand up to his chin, stepping towards her.  “Could it be that the Hardy boys have finally arrived?” Jaime lifted her head, glaring at him.  Zachariah smirked.  “Guess I should make some last-minute preparations.”

Zachariah faced Adam, lifting a hand and waving it casually.  Adam’s body was suddenly thrown back against the wall, his chair tipping to the floor.  The impact made him cry out, his face screwing up as pain shot through his body.  His mouth fell open as he coughed up more blood.

“Adam!” Jaime leaned forward in her chair, still trying to get free.  Something squeezed hard in her stomach before it rose up to her throat.  Her own mouth opened up as she vomited onto the table again.

“Be quiet!” Zachariah ordered.  Jaime lifted her head to look at him, but the angel was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

The only door in and out of the room opened.  Jaime’s eyes widened when she saw Dean, who rushed to her side immediately.  “Jaime!”

            “Dean.” She said quietly.  He looked her up and down, shocked at the blood on her clothes and the table in front of her.  “Dean, get Adam, I’ll be okay.” She nodded her head towards the other side of the room.

            Dean hesitantly moved away from her and knelt down beside his half-brother.  “Adam, hey.”

The young man jolted when Dean touched him.  He looked up at the hunter, surprised but thankful.  “You came for me.”

“We’re family.” He said, pulling Adam’s arm over his shoulder and helping him to his feet.

“Dean, it’s a trap.”

“I figured.”

“Dean, please.” Zachariah reappeared in the blink of an eye, standing in front of Dean and Adam.  Jaime struggled against the ropes holding her to the chair.  “Did you really think it would be that easy?”

“Did _you?_ ”

Sam ran past Jaime and raised a silver blade towards Zachariah from behind.  The angel spun around and knocked away the Winchester’s hand, throwing him off balance.  He flicked his fingers at Sam, who went flying through the air, crashing into a decorative, golden screen on the other side of the room.  Dean called out to his brother, wanting to run to him but obviously holding back.

“You know what I’ve learned from this experience, Dean?” Zachariah asked, turning back to the other two.  “Patience.” He held his hand out towards Adam.  The man doubled over and fell to the ground, blood dripping from his mouth as he coughed.

Dean did his best to hold onto him as he fell.  He looked up at Zachariah.  “Let him go, you son of a bitch.”

“I mean, I thought I was downsized for sure.” The angel continued, ignoring Dean.  “For us, a firing—pretty damn literal.  But I should have trusted the boss man.”

“Your dick brother, you mean.”

Zachariah glared at Jaime.  Her body lurched forward as she threw up blood all over her legs.  “But, even with _that one’s_ interference,” The angel pointed at her before he turned back to Dean, “it’s all playing out like he said—you, me, the dying vessel, and your hemorrhaging brothers.” Dean glanced down at Adam then at Sam as Zachariah clenched his fist, making Sam also cough up blood.  “You’re finally ready, right?”

Dean looked at Sam and Jaime across the room, then at Adam near his feet.

“You know there’s no other choice.  There’s never been a choice.”

“Stop it.” Dean said.  “Stop it, right now!”

“In exchange for what?”

Dean shook his head.  “Damn it, Zachariah.  Stop it, please.” He paused.  “I’ll do it.”

“Dean, no—”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” The angel held a hand at his ear.

“Okay, yes.  The answer is yes.”

“Dean!” Sam coughed.  Jaime grit her teeth together as she tugged at the ropes, moving against them so roughly that they began to cut into her wrists.

“You hear me?” Dean’s voice cracked.  “Call Michael down, you bastard!”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Do I look like I’m lying?”

The angel turned away from him, smiling proudly.  He lifted a hand and began to chant.  Jaime looked up as Dean faced her and Sam.  A low rumble was heard as the room began to shake.  “He’s coming.” Zachariah said.  While his back was still turned, Dean smirked and gave a short wink.  Jaime stopped pulling at the ropes, staring at him curiously.

“Of course, I have a few conditions.”

Zachariah turned to Dean.  “What?”

“A few people whose safety you have to guarantee before I say yes.”

“Sure, fine—make a list.”

“But most of all…  Michael can’t have me until he disintegrates you.”

The angel paused.  “What did you say?”

“I said,” Dean took a step towards Zachariah, “before Michael gets a piece of this sweet ass, he has to turn you into a piece of charcoal.”

Zachariah let out a nervous chuckle.  “You really think Michael’s gonna go for that?”

“Who’s more important to him right now—you or me?”

 Zachariah rushed forward, grabbing Dean by the front of his jacket.  “You listen to me.  You are nothing but a maggot inside a worm’s ass.  Do you know who I am,” He shook Dean a little in his grasp, and the hunter smirked, “after I deliver you to Michael?”

“Expendable.”

He chuckled again.  “Michael’s not gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not.  But _I_ am.” An angel blade was suddenly in Dean’s hand.  In one swift motion, he thrust the blade up through Zachariah’s chin.  His mouth fell open as he emitted a light from within.  Jaime arched back against the chair, bloodied wrists tugging against the ropes, screaming out painfully.  The angel exploded in a white light, and Dean fell backwards.

The shaking had gotten worse, and the low rumbling had quickly changed into an ear-piercing ringing.  Jaime let out a shaky breath as the pain faded.  The ceiling of the room began to glow brilliantly.  Dean helped Adam to his feet, and Sam had managed to pull himself up, as well.  He ran to Jaime’s side, untying the ropes.

Her body ached terribly when she stood, but she forced herself to push through the pain.  She stared up at the ceiling, fearful.  “We have to leave, now!”

Dean continued to move Adam as Sam pulled open the door.  Jaime followed him out.  The door suddenly slammed shut behind her.  She heard Dean call out for Adam, and when she turned around, Adam was nowhere to be seen.

“No!” Adam screamed from behind the door, banging on it roughly.  “No, help! The door won’t open!”

Jaime watched as Dean ran towards the door.  It had started to glow fiercely, and he winced when the doorknob burned his hand.  He cursed.  “Hold on, Adam, we’ll get you out!”

She pushed past Dean and grabbed the handle herself.  It burned her skin on contact, but she continued to pull at the door.  “Adam!” She called out.  “Adam, can you hear me!?”

The glow coming from the structure became harsh.  Jaime shut her eyes, shielding them from the too-intense light.  After a few seconds, the light faded and the ringing disappeared.  The doorknob was no longer red-hot, and Jaime quickly opened the door.  She stepped inside the room but paused as she looked around.  It was a completely different room—an abandoned office space, by the looks of it.

“Adam!” Dean shouted from behind her.

“Where is he?” Sam asked.

Jaime shook her head.  “He’s gone.”

 

**HOT SPRINGS, SOUTH DAKOTA — MARCH 11, 2010**

No one spoke as they trekked back to Bobby’s.  Not during the walk to look for a car, not during the time it took to hotwire the car, not during the time they spent driving the car.  They stopped once at a gas station to grab something to eat, somewhere in Wyoming, before they continued with the drive.

Twenty minutes after crossing the Wyoming-South Dakota border, Sam spoke up.  “You think Adam’s okay?”

“Doubt it.” Dean answered.  “Cas, either, but we’ll get ‘em.” The brothers fell silent for another moment, before Dean tilted his head to glance at Jaime in the backseat.  “How you doing, Jaime?” She didn’t answer.  “C’mon, talk to us.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Dean.  We didn’t…” She sighed.  “Adam’s gone.”

“Well, why do you care?  Last time I checked, he tried to kill you and brought you to the angels.”

“He just wanted to see his family.” Jaime met Dean’s gaze in the rearview mirror.  “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing.”

Dean’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.  “How are your burns?” Sam asked, changing the subject.

Jaime took her hands off her lap, examining them for a moment.  “Almost healed.  My wrists are fine, too.” She set them back down.

“Guess being a vessel comes with its perks.” Sam said.  He stared at her for a moment longer, eyes narrow, as if he wanted to ask her something else.  He didn’t and turned to Dean instead.  “So?”

“So, what?”

“I saw your eyes, Dean.  You were totally rockin’ the yes back there.  What changed your mind?”

“Honestly?” Dean glanced at his brother.  “The damnedest thing.  I mean, the world’s ending, the walls are comin’ down on us.  But I look over at you and all I can think is, _‘This stupid son of a bitch brought me here.’_   I just didn’t want to let you down.”

“You didn’t.  You _almost_ did,” Sam pointed a finger at him, “but you didn’t.”

“I owe you an apology.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Just let me say this.” Sam sighed, allowing Dean to say what he needed to.  “I don’t know if it’s being a big brother or what, but to me, you’ve always been this snot-nosed kid that I’ve had to keep on the straight and narrow.  I think we both know that that’s not you anymore.  I mean, hell, if you’re grown-up enough to find faith in me, the least I can do is return the favor.  So, screw destiny, right in the face.  I say we take the fight to them and do it our way.”

Sam smiled.  “Sounds good.”

“And Jaime.” Dean looked back at her again.  “I know this isn’t exactly what you thought your life would be like, and I am sorry, but like it or not, you’re here.  You’re here, and it’s gonna be a hell of a fight.”

Jaime turned to look out the window.  “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER I WAS DEALING WITH SHIT BUT HERE I AM!!!! i figured i'd post something while im stuck writing this other chapter;;;
> 
> just barely under 8300................and 29 pages.....................................before editing it was 8700 words............... i don't even remember what i cut out to make it 400 words less....wow i'm such a great writer......................
> 
> anyways, im kind of??? upset??? with this one????? for a while, i felt like it was just me going through the motions with the characters and with the episode..........................like near the middle i started to really hate it before revisions....and then like, at the very end, i hated it after revisions.... it just sounds bad tbh, even after revisions (which i wASN'T HOPING FOR I WANTED IT TO BE BETTER NOT WORSE)
> 
> i had a hard time with placement (where ppl were standing) and describing actions while ppl were talking... that got on my nerves a bit, which is dumb but when you've been writing for a long time on one particular thing u just start to hate it lol
> 
> OH WELL!!!! next chapter might be better (it's not, heads up), and there will be a familiar face!!! just for a bit!!
> 
> title is Come What May by The Last Bison


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